I am by no means a foodie, but I do spend an awful lot of time thinking about food, reading about food, talking about food, purchasing, preparing, consuming, and cleaning up after food.  Other than, “Can I go to legoclub.com?”, “Can we go to the park?”, “Is it screen time yet?”, and “Doo-dah/Doe-fa-feen/Dad did it!” the words I most frequently hear are “What and when are we going to eat?”  Mostly, lately, it’s gotten the same response:  “Idunno.”  I haven’t been inspired, it’s been too rainy/cold/blazing hot/enter some other element “out of my control” that would give me the excuse to say “sounds like another snacky lunch day!”

But then a friend made a comment the other day:  “I miss your menu posts.”

What?  Someone reads this ol’ blog?  And they’re interested in what I have to say?  Like a neglected child who gets a glimmer of positive reinforcement, my inner blogger did a little twirl:  someone cares?!!  Then I should menu plan!  And post!  And after a life of family-visits, end-of-the-school-year-madness, surgery, recouping, rockin’-the-rec-at-VBS, trip-to-Kansas, soul-sucking-heat, I actually found time and space to plan out the munchies.

What cookbook are we planning from this time?  The Vegetarian Mother’s Cookbook.  Not that I’m a vegetarian intentionally.  It’s more that a) meat takes time to prepare, 2) wrongly prepared meat can cause death, iii) I’m lazy and would like not to kill off my family.  And, dairy and I are fast friends.  So I read vegetarian recipes:  plus, honestly, a lot of them are quick and easy and don’t deal with potential cross-contamination.

Sunday:  Breakfast at church before the outdoor worship (took store-purchased granola as my cereal offering – shocking for me not to bring a baked good – that’s how out of it I’ve been – and how non-stove-oriented – cause it’s hot – and we’re doing one-window-unit a/c – gotsta keeps the bebes cool!); Pb banana shake, sugar snap peas (from our CSA – love them!), whole wheat ritz with raw milk yogurt cheese; Whole wheat english muffin pizzas (with Trader Joe’s pizza sauce:  thanks for the recommendation, Ashlee!)

Monday:  Molasses toast, herby (CSA) scrambled eggs, cherries (CSA and our backyard); whole grain waffles, bananas, peanut butter; Veggie breakfast burrito, fruit salad

Tuesday:  Summer muesli, bananas; Tofu salad sandwich, chips, carrots, dried strawberries; Breakfast potatoes and veggies, scrambled eggs plus

Wednesday:  Almond butter orange sandwich; Bean quesadilla, chips, cherries; Scrambled tofu, almond pancakes w/homemade butter and homemade raspberry jam

Thursday:  Soaked apples’n'spice Bob’s Red Mill cereal, string cheese; Rice and beans casserole, chips, salsa, carrots; Tofu and udon noodles (known to the boys as peanut butter noodles, like the kind that beloved Miss Ashlee makes for her boys, cause tofu and udon is yuck, but who can say no to peanut butter noodles?!!), applesauce, snap peas

Friday:  Almond butter pancake sandwich, bananas; Curried rice salad, toasted cheese english muffins; Grilled chicken mango sausage, new potato and pea salad (Thanks, Mere!)

Saturday:  English muffin cheesecake, cherries; Black bean and sweet potato enchiladas, snap peas, homemade strawberry fruit leather; Potato kale quiche, fruit salad, garlic toast

It’s amazing to recognize the changes since I’ve last posted a menu.  I make a lot more stuff myself, or I get a lot more ingredients locally.   On Saturday a friend and I drove past the house I get eggs from which happens to be in the hills of Dundee.  My friend, who was driving, said, “So we turn around to get to your house?” to which I replied, “Oh no, there’s a back road.”  A back road that’s gravel with crazy amounts of small and large potholes, including a turn that drives you over really really loose gravel where it’s not so obvious where the tires of the car should or actually can go.  And yet their house is a mere few minutes away from my house which is firmly located in suburbia.  At times like that, after doing my weekly egg pickup, and as I hear my youngest littles babbling to hear their voices change as we bounce from pothole to pothole, I must admit: I really do love my life. 

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Scene:  After Naptime

JJ enters room, wearing a green long-sleeved shirt from the morning and shorts just a few shades bluer than the green shirt, close enough that the eyes naturally squint.  He’s holding a kleenex to his chin.

Mama:  “JJ, you’re wearing shorts.”

JJ:  “Yep.”

Mama:  “Why?”

JJ:  “Cause it was quiet time.”

Abe comes trundling in the room, wearing his swimming trunks and lacking a shirt, carrying a kleenex.

Mama:  “Abe, you’re wearing your swimming trunks.”

Abe:  “Mama, owie!  I gotta scratchie!”

Mama:  “You have a little scratch?”

Abe, trying to stand on one foot while holding the other up to show it off:  “SCRATCHIE!”

JJ:  “No, Mama, it’s a BIG scratch!”

Abe, smiling:  “I BLEEDING!!!”

JJ:  “He’s bleeding a lot!”

Abe:  “Yep!”  Puts both feet firmly on the floor and trundles off.

JJ’s kleenex was never explained.

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This darling face:

And this darling face:

And this darling face:

And this darling face:

[I know, I know:  food shots of the boys, and a glamour shot of the girl?  Well, she's not so into that whole Eating Food Like Humans Do thing.  That is, until tonight when we figured she will not be *fed* but will feed herself.  Purees, shmurees:  smooshed bananas and homemade waffles for this little lady.  We'll see how she digs the French Peas tomorrow:  Mais, oui, Jean Claude, mais oui!].

I’m a lucky girl.

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Things I got excited about recently:

• buying milk from a local farmer
• making butter
• making yogurt
• in a food dehydrator
• reading about all the amazing things you can make in a food dehydrator
• the upcoming bounty of zucchini for this summer that I can turn into zucchini chips
• in my food dehydrator
• giving my husband a decent haircut
• a quart of raw, local honey
• reorganizing the toy closet
• pulling out the entertainment center and cleaning the nasty scary dusty muck that now has taken residence in my lungs
• seeing that the Star Wars Lego Dictionary will be coming to the library soon for my son
• and my son doesn’t know that I put a hold on the Star Wars Lego Dictionary, but boy howdy, will he be excited
• sock yarn
• mending the torn pages from the stack of accumulated books
• under-cabinetry kitchen lighting

Seriously.  How did I turn into a housemarm?

At least one thing on my excitement list was finishing reading my Civil War-era steampunk Seattle apocalypse/zombies book and beginning my upcoming selection of Abraham Lincoln:  Vampire Hunter.   Somehow I think these reads are bringing balance to my life …

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Today the Hubby watched The Lord of the Rings.

All of them.

The *extended* versions.

Yes, he is that hard core.  Actually, it’s mostly that he’s friends with folks that are that hard core, and he likes to hang out with them.

A facebook event invite was sent out.  People rsvp’d.  The viewing local?  The social hall of the church (that’s what you get when the pastor is the event coordinator).  Sound and visuals taken care of by one of the church sound techs (something about upgrading projectors so it was blu-ray quality, even though the blu-ray editions won’t be released until April – duh).  Sound tech’s wife (our children’s pastor) set up the comfy chairs and padded pews for those with “sensitive” tooshies.  An area for non-chatters and an area for chatters designated.  My comment:  the only thing lacking was a person live-blogging the event.

Oh, and that other minor detail lacking:

CHILDCARE.

Today, I have been a Lord of the Rings widow, and I would like to say that I have triumphed!  It’s my first day feeding, dressing, shopping for, entertaining (thank you, Michelle, for hosting the widows – our own elven sanctuary), feeding, cleaning, napping, entertaining, feeding, cleaning, entertaining, bathing, feeding, reading to, cleaning, and putting to bed three tykes all by my lonesome.

It’s 9:43:  one tyke is is swaddled and snoring, the other two are “cuddling” under a sleeping bag (well, one has his midsection covered while the other has buried his head) on the top bunk bed.

I’d like to see a Melissa and Doug Responsibility Chart with all my duties, because they’re checked off, and I’d like my sticker now, pleaseandthankyou.

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The other night Hubby and I wondered:

How

Are these kids

Related?

Seriously.

Boo Blatherings, JJ Jawings, Little A Adventures | 1 Comment »

It snowed yesterday.  And the world ceased to function, at least in the Pacific Northwest.  I can say that in my condescending way because I’m from Idaho where people know how to take care of snow, and because I was not on the roads, and because my husband got off of work early and only had a seven minute commute home.  So we played.

First, we wrap a Boo in a bunting from a GrandMom.  Yes, it’s big, but it’s pretty and fuzzy and red and from Nordstrom’s (I think).

Then we voyage outside:  yes, the bunting has ears.

Oooh, all pretty and white.  We watch as the professionals take to the field.

They survey the territory, assess the situation, take in all the details.

Cold.  Wet.  White.  Yep, it’s snow.

The girls hang by the sidelines, letting the experts get to work.

We make do with snow gear:  pockets are used to dethaw hands.

Time to get to work:  man making.  Small man of snow making, because the women-folk were inside whipping up something yummy and warm.

Watching the mama do her thing in the kitchen.

Pope Boo?

Whatchu giggling at, woman?

No more pictures, Mamarazzi!

When the Menfolk were done with their heavy lifting, they came in to defrost with some made-from-scratch hot cocoa (dude, the IKEA frother thingie is *awesome*).  Oh, and pjs, and later breakfast for dinner, cause that’s how we swing around here.

Making Giant Pancakes for dinner:  a logical choice to match the giant pancake snowflakes.

Some wondered where their hot cocoa goodness was:  all in good time, Little Miss, all in good time.

Some snow bunnies passed out during dinner time.  Literally.

The ferocious snow kitten monitored the situation from his command center.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how we deal with snow.

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Last night I made a double-batch of eggnog scones for a brunch this morning.  I had eggnog; I was supposed to bring a baked good; I made scones.  I found some awesome-looking eggnog muffins, but muffins are such a commitment at a brunch:  you need little things, or things you can break into pieces.  And go back for more.  And some more again.

I’ve heard requests for the recipe.

Recipe.

Blog explanation.

Now, I used whole wheat pastry flour, trying to redeem some sort of nutritional value.  I whompawhompawhompahed with my biscuit cutter (a description I could NOT for the life of me remember this morning, having to describe with hand motions, “You know:  it’s flat and has four wire thingies that go around like this, and you take your thumb here and grip and go whompawhompawhompa” – or something like that) for quite some time, which some people say is key and others say makes tough scones.  I used less flour, more eggnog, I think a large egg and an extra large egg, Darigold eggnog (much better than whatever’s at Freddies), butterscotch chips (which deemed an “ooooh” from the Hubby), and raw sugar on top.  When it came to adding the wet goods, I mixed until barely combined – lots of butter bits and still kind of flour-y.  Molded into rounds on a silpat (first time I’ve used them:  had them for about four years), used a pizza cutter, separated, and eggnogged/sugared the tops.

I also was in a good mood while making these.  I had a disastrous attempt at making peanut butter popcorn (apparently when boiling sugar and honey, one shouldn’t do it on high for five minutes), and was nervous, but listening to the latest Trekcast talking about Deanna Troi’s mom (SO funny, if you’re into that sort of thing, which I know many people just shut down and lost respect for me, but hey:  it’s my heritage) made me giggle, and I think that helped the scones.

I also found out that some friends had made the very same kind and we all had different results.  Mine were deemed “biscuit-like”, which I hope is a good thing.

They’re best first thing out of the oven, but will still be edible the next day (stupid Oregon humidity making them all sticky-like).

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I remember hearing those dreaded words from other mothers:  “Some day your children will stop taking naps.”

NOOOOO!!!  That time during the afternoon, about 2-4ish, is a time when I had not a lot more to give:  not kind words, not fun activities, not books to read, not coloring books to decorate.  It’s a time for me to rest:  be quiet:  pull myself together for the Second Shift until the kids get to bed.

JJ has not napped in I don’t know how long, and ever since he and Abe started sharing a room, neither sleeps.  They have to remain in their room until Quiet Time is over, but staying in their room seems to be interpreted differently.  Such as today:

This would be my room.

And you know what, I don’t even care what was going through their darling little brains, because they were out.  Simultaneously.  And I have yet to find the lotion in my night table, but hey:  something to look forward to, eh?

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Yesterday I noticed that Charlie Brown’s Christmas Special was going to be on TV, as classic as American Christmas comes (Europe has Handel’s Messiah, and we have cartoon characters reading the Bible).  My brother and I watched this show as kids, along with the slew of claymation/cartoon/oddly filmed seasonal classics.

But then I saw the time:  8pm.

I know, I know:  not all that late.  But see, by 6pm, my goal for the day is to get to 8.  Because at 8, the children are contained in their room (in theory).  Eight o’clock, glorious eight o’clock, when I can have a non-interrupted conversation with my husband, or when I don’t have to have a conversation at all, because no one’s constantly asking me for screen time or a snack or why does Dad drive so much (which I asked him why he thought he did.  Answer: “Because he has to!”  Oh, yeah, that’s it).

So, how to get my children to have some of the normal American Christmas experience?  (which I don’t know if they really should, but enh).  Hulu to the rescue!

Funny thing, though:  they’ve shortened the show.  The not-even-a-half-hour-show has been cut down to 21 minutes.  Leaving in all the instances of saying “stupid” (a word we try not to use so much in the home).  With about 21 minutes of online commercials.  Really?  Really?!!

So then I suggested watching Rudolf.  Dude, that sucker is 54 minutes!  Give them some JJ-made chocolate covered sprinkled pretzels and string cheese, brush teeth, and throw them into their rooms!  Of course, as they were playing football in a box of a sleeping space an hour after we put them “into bed”, I commented, ‘Oh, did I forget to mention that they both took a nap today?’

Oops.

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