We are back among the living here at Hot Water Bath. Tonight I cooked a proper dinner for the first time in weeks and it felt awesome. We nearly went out to a local Italianish place but in the end decided that we were just too wiped to actually set foot outside the house. So I made a pasta carbonara-type thing with sauteed beet greens on the side that, given the circumstances, tasted like one of the greatest things ever cooked in my or any other house. We were just so insanely grateful to be there together, in one piece, eating good food that wasn't prefab and with no one wishing to high heaven that the meal would end so he/she could just book it back to bed. I swear, few meals were ever as appreciated as tonight's dinner.


I'm trying hard not to rush to fill my time, to take it slow and not plunge headlong into the projects that were put on hold through the madness of the past two weeks. It's a struggle, though, because there is so much that I'm wanting to do and accomplish. There's that book proposal, for instance, as well as some other writing projects. And the canning, of course. Then there's the nursery to prepare, as the Little Diva is just about ready to move into her own room - so there's a rocker to paint and curtains to hang and so on. Plus my reading list is growing and I've got to finish the sundress I started sewing a few weeks ago. Also one of my clients called last week and asked if I would take on some work over the next few months. I like this person and the company, the work is satisfying and the money is welcome so this is a nice development - it's good to be wanted. If we're able to come to an agreement then the whole work/home balance thing will have to shift again. Not a problem, but certainly something to keep in mind over the next week as I prioritize.


And so life picks up and continues apace.

We're rapidly entering movie of the week territory here: Sleepness Nights, When a Woman Loses What's Left of Her Mind.


The Little Diva had a very difficult night last night into this morning. So I called the doctor describing the latest series of symptoms and was told to get her into the pediatric radiology department as quickly as possible. I am going to spare you the details of this adventure, but will tell you that we're pretty sure we've got everything figured out - she is much more comfortable and is starting to nurse well again. The doc gave me a box of Mother's Milk tea as we were leaving and made arrangements to come to the house tomorrow to check in on us. That's right - our pediatrician makes house calls for sick visits. Proof that wonders never do, actually, cease.


And so tomorrow we will hopefully bring this two week illness episode to a close. Real life scheduled to recommence on Monday.

I still want to write about Sandra Tsing Loh, but I fear that by the time I get around to it we will be on to the next media outrage. Soon, perhaps.


Things are still hitting the fan around here. My husband was discharged on Monday after treatment for pneumonia. Although his sister had to leave Sunday afternoon, my parents arrived Monday evening so they were able to help me get him settled in and comfortable. Although he continues to feel a bit better every day he's still quite weak and getting through each day takes a lot out of him.


Also on Monday we took the Little Diva into her doctor for checking since she had developed a very bad, raspy cough. The Boy Wonder had had RSV when he was just two months old, the aftermath of which lasted for more than two years, so I am very alert for signs of respiratory discomfort. Anyway, no RSV (thank God), but we're nebulizing and watching carefully.


On Tuesday I finally found time to head to my own doctor. After series of deep breaths (yeah, right), inhalations into various little tubs and lots of frowning with stethoscopes I received my own diagnosis: pneumonia. Yeah, you read that right. Can you believe it? The doctor said that ordinarily she'd have sent me in for a chest x-ray to confirm, but given my tale of woe about the husband and baby and what she heard in my lungs and saw of my breathing tests, she felt it wasn't necessary this time. So now I have my own mini-pharmacy (each component of which I was pleased to learn is compatible with nursing, so no worries there). I'm lucky that I don't have any underlying lung disease (as my husband does) or I might have been whalloped as badly as he was.


The Boy Wonder (a.k.a. "Our Little Vector") has remained well and only notes from time to time that he is tired of "all this coughing!" Yeah, me too, kid.


So my parents have disinfected the house, washed all the towels and bedding, swabbed out our cars and have generally just labored to put us all back together again. It has been a long week.

Thanks for all your kind thoughts for my husband. He was admitted yesterday after all and we are all in a frenzy of worried activity. Luckily, my saintly sister-in-law consented to drive down from Philadelphia (a nearly five hour drive through D.C. traffic) to help out with the kids. For this act, if for nothing else, she should be given every Pulitzer and Nobel prize available.


I am exhausted and scared, he is exhausted and hurting. But the care is excellent (save for one spectacularly bitchy nurse) and he is resting - which is needed above all. With luck and good vitals, he'll be coming home in a day or so. Any prayers you wish to offer up to the diety of your choice, candles you wish to burn or herbs you wish to dry and crumble will be greatly appreciated.


Back in a few.

Typos - argh. Sorry 'bout them. I ought to be more careful.



To compensate, I'll give you three words as a sneak preview of my next post: Sandra Tsing Loh.

The chocolate sauce very likely will not happen today. My husband called yesterday shortly after I finished posting that the ingredients were measured and ready to go. He was on his way to the ER, unable to breathe. Would I mind terribly meeting him there? Would I mind? Oh, for the love of God, no. It was close to school pick up time so I put the baby into the car, drove first to get the Boy Wonder and headed over. I was convinced that he would have been called in by the time I got there - aren't breathing problems a ticket to instant ER service, along with chest pain and premature labor? No go. I rushed in after finding what had to be the farthest possible parking spot to find him sitting in the waiting area turning ever so slightly bluish around the edges.


I have always known that this could someday happen. My husband has asthma that has been difficult to control - although a series of excellent allergists and pulmonary specialists have kept him on an even keel for a while now. He hadn't been serious about keeping his meds up to date until I came home from work one day crying and shaking after a colleague's sudden death from...asthma. He had an asthma attack and died, leaving behind a pregnant wife and an 18 month old son. I had had no idea that people could die of asthma in this day and age - never once occurred to me. I thought that was something that used to happen. We had just begun the negotiations surrounding starting a family and I told him that we would not be having children until he started taking regular appointments and got his medications in order. He now says that he knew from my tone of my voice and the cast of my face that I meant it and so he made the necessary calls the next day.


That was early in 1999. Since then he has kept up with a regimen of two or three inhalers, plus allergy tabs and nasal sprays. And it all worked - until yesterday. Likely the event was set off by the cold we're wrestling with, coupled with the normal allergens one sees in the advent of spring and the stress of mid-semester exams (not to mention the general rundownedness that comes from living with an infant). In any case, he was stabilized and sent home more than 6 hours after his arrival (he was only taken "backstage" to keep me from bothering the triage nurse again with requests for a nebulizer, towel and/or a basin for vomiting).


Today we're all tired and a little spent from the drama. The hospital is no place for kids, but since the only people we know here in Cville work at the hospital we had no one to look after them for us. The Boy Wonder was just that - amazing how kids know they've got to pull it together and just not be, you know, toddlers. The baby slept off her schedule and even consented to nurse with lots of light and noise - conditions at which she usually balks. The parts of the day not spent sleeping will be used to pick up prescriptions, track down the allergist and talking to the radiologist about the chest x-ray. Today I also get to admit to how scared I was and maybe even cry a little.

I spent a large chunk of this morning's nap time composing a letter to the CIO of a local medical informatics company. Basically, I'm seeking what's commonly called an "informational interview" - that is, I'm not looking to him for employment but rather a discussion of the industry and his views on where it's headed and what might be in store. In other words, I'd just like to make the contact. I'm not a natural networker and doing this kind of thing always makes me nervous and jerky. I've been on the receiving end of similar letters and I'm always careful to treat them seriously, but I'm aware that many people blow them off entirely. I would say at least 80% of those that I have written and for which I've attempted follow up have been completely disregarded. And yet, into the fray I go.


The small portion of my brain that hasn't been taken up with writing, rewriting and rewriting again the letter I've given over to cutting the pieces for two pairs of shorts I'm starting to make for the Boy Wonder. Depressing to be thinking about summer clothes today, what with all the cold rain and general gloom, but I'd rather not leave these things to the last minute. A local fabric shop had some really great plaids so I bought three-quarters of a yard of two of them for some nice, simple elastic-waisted shorts. I've got a few sewing projects on tap for myself to follow, including a really great evening bag shaped kind of like a miniature handled paper sack. I'm very much looking forward to that one - and also very much wishing I had somewhere to use it.

Two bread related events this week: first, sourdough v.2 was a bust. Trouble again with the second rise. At this point I'm ready to move to the bread machine and scrupulously follow directions. It's just not worth the aggravation to keep going on this way. On the plus side, I used the failed dough for the stromboli, which was awesome. On the other hand, I am pleased to report that the second bread event is the unequivocal, complete and utter fantasticness of the naan that I made tonight.


In a comments reply I had stated that I was using a Madhur Jaffrey recipe for the naan. Turns out that wasn't quite true. Because I was distracted in the middle of the of the procedure by 1) a toddler meltdown, 2) an infant feeding demand, 3) a call from my mother asking me for the third time if I wanted her to pick up the daisy basket at Target, I ended up combining two recipes from two sources. Still, they turned out great so I'm not going to beat myself up about it. Plus, they're very easy to make and pretty quick if you have an efficient broiler (which I don't). Even without the efficient broiler I made six quick large naan in about 20 minutes. To make your own, mix three cups all-purpose flour, one cup of plain yogurt, one tablespoon of yeast, half a teaspoon of salt and two tablespoons of oil in a large bowl. Stir to combine and then turn out onto a floured surface to knead into a smooth, elastic dough. Put the dough back into the bowl and let rise for 2 or so hours. When you're ready to cook, cover the broiler pan or rack moved to the top of your oven with foil that has little holes pricked into it. Heat the broiler. While the broiler is heating, separate the dough into six balls of equal portions. Using a rolling pin, roll each ball out to 1/4 inch thickness. Two at a time, place the rolled out dough into the foil and close the oven door. Watch the bread carefully and turn once when the top is slightly brown with a few darker brown spots. If you'd like, brush some melted salted butter on one side of the rolled out naan, putting the buttered side up to cook first. The bread is done when both sides are browned. Remove from the oven and keep cooked breads in a folded up tea towel to keep warm for serving.


In addition to the naan I made two of Jaffrey's other dishes - one with chickpeas and the other of limas and tomatoes. With a basic cucumber raita, rice and a canned masala simmer sauce dinner was complete and I used virtually every pot, pan and implement in the kitchen (which is not a pretty place at the moment). Since cleaning up will likely take the rest of the night and a good chunk of tomorrow I think tomorrow will be a restaurant day.


I also want to share the stromboli story with you, but that will have to wait for another day. Oh, and I finally did more of the pink grapfruit marmalade which I need to tell you because I did something different this time which I like better. Plus, there's the story of the hole in the front yard and the weeping cherry tree. So much to blog, so little time. For now, though, I'm off to bathe the kids and pour myself a nice glass of wine as the reward for a long, productive day.

Inspired by Deb's experiences and Rayne's advice, I am giving sourdough another chance. I've learned that I must be more patient and allow much more rising time than I did for v.1 Furthermore, although I'm using the same recipe as the basis for this effort, I'm trusting my instincts more this time - I've added more flour to what I thought was a too soft dough. I was tempted to add just a little yeast in addition to the starter but refrained in favor of making a "pure" attempt with my newly patient approach to rising. Since sourdough is a multiday project, you will have to stay tuned for the results. My fingers are firmly crossed.


Dinner tonight was couscous and a kind of faux tagine. I hadn't made this dish in a while, but I used to make it at least twice a month. As we sat down to dinner I remembered why - it looks and smells fantastic. It tastes good, too, and is quite easy to produce. I usually make my version with a bit of spicy sausage (browned and crumbled), diced onion, sliced carrot, chick peas, diced tomatoes and a few drops of hot sauce to mimic harissa. More authentic recipes contain raisons or apricots, but I tend not to like fruit in non-sweet things so I leave them out more often than not. Anyway, just cook all this stuff up together - I start with the sausage and then add the remaining ingredients one by one and consider it done when the onions are translucent and the tomatoes have thickened somewhat. As for the couscous, nothing could be simpler - following the instructions on the package using either broth or boullion have never failed me. The best part? Only two pots, a knife and cutting board to wash and less than a half hour of cooking time.


My experiment for the week (other than the sourdough) is stromboli. I developed cravings for stromboli while pregnant and they haven't quite subsided. So I have the remainder of the sausage, some peppers and such and will have at it tomorrow. And, the Boy Wonder has asked me to learn how to make naan here at home so I'm going to give that a whirl as well. I'm a bit concerned about this naan business. Not only do I not possess the traditional oven equipment, but I'll be competing against a very fine restaurant, Maharaja, at which we are regulars and where my son can consume his weight in bread products. I fear that I won't come out of this looking good.

We're a little under the weather here at Hot Water Bath. It seems that the Boy Wonder's snurgliness has been passed onto the rest of the family. He's such a good sharer. In any case, things moved a bit slower this weekend than I had hoped and not too much was accomplished. We more or less just hung out and enjoyed each other's company. Even though the to-do list was not impacted much, it was still a very satisfying time.


Last night we put the entire first floor of the house in disarray in preparation for the arrival of the new (to us) china cabinet. Its acquisition requires the shifting and moving of several other pieces (all old and heavy) and, as a result, drawers are spread out all over, their contents shifted through (I'm taking the opportunity to clean out the drawers), chairs are placed willy nilly in an effort to keep them out of the way and there are random piles of paper that have been shifted from their usual non-random (although equally disordered) locations. I despise this kind of upheaval - I find it deeply unsettling and am unable to relax in a chaotic room - and wish to every supreme being who might be paying attention that this gets put to rights soon. So far, the Little Diva and I have been hiding out upstairs in an effort to avoid the mess. Then there's the matter of my husband's sore shoulder. We're not done with this saga and he swears that some deep, horrible injury has occured. He threatened this morning to not work toward finishing the job until he could secure the opinion of one of his orthopedic surgeon friends - all of whom are out of town for two weeks at a conference. My non-medical opinion? He'll be hurt a lot worse if it takes more than (or even) two weeks to get the house back in order and it won't necessarily be an orthopedic injury.


Later this week we're beginning the first in an occasional series of Bad Movie Fridays. The idea is that we'll invite people over for drinks and snacks and watch (as much as we care to) a movie that is widely considered, well, bad. Although we intend to delve fully into the history of bad film, we decided to inaugurate the series with a bad movie of very recent vintage: Gigli. Yes, really. I figure with the appropriate medicinal application of margaritas, some prophylactic queso dip and the right company, the Bennifer debacle might even be considered entertaining.


Of course, the very concept of "bad" requires some deliberation and those who accept this first invitation will be invited to join the debate. Does "bad" mean panned by critics (as the aforementioned Gigli)? Does it mean boffo box office the first week and nada thereafter (a la the second Charlie's Angels)? Does it mean movies that are actually financially successful but that are wretched nonetheless (Titanic...d-d-d-don't d-d-die R-r-rose)? What about movies like Waterworld which, I believe, fulfills all three categories? Actually, I have a feeling that anything with Kevin Costner after that Wolves one might qualify. Then again, there's always Keanu Reeves for reliable badness (cute though he may be and that Matrix stuff - which I've not seen - notwithstanding).

Questions asked by a three year old while making chocolate chip cookies:

What is that? Why is it flour? Where is your bowl? Oh, there it is. Why is your bowl yellow? Why is that a bowl? What is that? Why is it brown sugar? Why isn't it white sugar? Where is the white sugar? What is that? What is vanilla? Can I smell the vanilla? Why is it vanilla? Why do I like vanilla? Why doesn't it smell like chocolate? Where are the chocolate chips? Why are they chocolate chips? What are those funny spoons? Why do they measure? What do they measure? Why is that salt? Are cookies salty? Is sugar good? Do we eat sugar? Why are you putting the oven on? Is the oven hot? Why is that an egg shell? Where did the egg go? Why do cookies have eggs? Do cookies taste like eggs? Why do you have to stir it? What are those? Why are they cookie sheets? Do cookies go on them? Why do cookies cook on them? Why are they rectangle? Why are they gray? Are they metal? Why are they metal? Why are you putting the cookies in the oven? Will the cookies cook there? Why do I have to stay away from the oven? Why don't you want me to get hurt? Are the cookies done? What is that? Why is it an oven timer? What does it do? Why are you turning the oven timer on? Are the cookies done? What is that? Why is it a spatula? What color is it? Why is it beige? What are you doing? Why do the cookies have to cool? Why are they hot? Are the cookies done? Are the cookies done? Are the cookies done? Can I eat a cookie? Can I eat a cookie? Can I eat a cookie? Can I eat a cookie? Can I eat a cookie? Can I eat a cookie? Can I eat a cookie? Can I eat a cookie? Can I eat a cookie? Can I eat a cookie?

I learned a lesson in toddlerese last night. The Boy Wonder stayed home from school because he is, in his word, snurgley. By late afternoon he was feeling better and wanted to help make dinner so I invited him into the kitchen and told him we were going to have Mommy's special meatloaf. Silence. And then suddenly, "I DON'T WANT MEATLOAF! I DON'T LIKE MEATLOAF! MEATLOAF IS STINKY!"


Fair enough. The thing is, I'm pretty sure he's never had meatloaf . In a flash of inspiration I told him that since he doesn't like meatloaf we would have something else instead. "What?" he wanted to know. A giant meatball. I told him we'd make a giant meatball instead of the meatloaf. "Cool," he said, "I just love meatballs." And so the giant meatball was mixed, formed and cooked using the exact same recipe as for the aforementioned and rejected meatloaf. I am at once regretful for having deceived him and impressed at my own cleverness.


This particular meatloaf/meatball was made with a pound of ground turkey, mixed with an egg, some soft breadcrumbs, fresh ground pepper, and a little A-1 steak sauce. It was, if I may say so, very good served with polenta, grean beens and a bit of beef gravy. The Boy Wonder even tried some polenta, which made me very happy. He said it was "kind of mushy, but not bad." And so was saved another dinner.


There has been a change of plan for the weekend which has left me free to scratch my increasingly demanding canning itch. Not that I wasn't looking forward to the trip, because I was, but sometimes it's just nicer to be home, you know? Anyway, I'm out of marinated mushrooms and mango jam and have had a special request for grapefruit marmalade so I'd like to get working on it. Plus, there's sourdough v.2 to work on, as well as some experimenting with roast pork that I've been planning for months.


I also need to clean out the canning cupboard to see exactly where I stand with regards to jars, lids and such. Unlike some canners, I seldom to never actually put empty jars back in the handy boxes but rather stick them willy-nilly back on the shelves. The result is that at any given time I'm not sure how many jars of what size are available and whether or not I have rings available for them. I am resolved to organize myself in this area once and for all. Now that this weekend is free, sort of "found time" if you will, I am out of excuses.


I'd like to incorporate more pictures into this blog. I'll work on that, too, this weekend, in between the other stuff.

This will be a shorter entry than usual because I am officially behind on thank you notes and didn't end up finishing the birth announcements over the weekend as planned. The weather was just to lovely to spend it inside, so we played around the back yard, frolicking with the dog, cleaning up some of the garden beds and just generally being outside. I'm further behind the eight ball due to an unexpected trip to Philly just tonight planned for this coming weekend.


My grandmother has offered us her china cabinet for the taking. This is not the best time for us to be doing things like renting vans and such, but it's a limited time offer, the thing is pecan for goodness' sake and we'd like for mom-mom to meet the baby so off we go. We're hoping to avoid the worst of DC/Beltway traffic, which can turn what should be a four hour trip into a seven hour trip, by leaving early Saturday and returning Monday morning. If we're successful it should be a nice trip. If we're not, well, I don't want to think about it. Between limited sleep, epic crying jags (mostly from the baby, but occasionally from me) and my husband's scholastic stress we don't have a lot of room to absorb any DC madness. My zen-like mantra for the week: I'm looking forward to spending time travelling with my family. The traffic does not worry me.

In the end, sourdough v. 1 was a bust. The recombined loaf rose only slightly and ended up actually expanding a bit at the bottom on the baking sheet. I didn't think this was a big deal, and actually thought it could work out to be a kind of sourdough focaccia-esque thing. Um, no. It was just plain weird - really dense inside and practically uncuttable at the crusts. The insides of the bread did, however, have a nice sourdough flavor so in the end all was not lost. I'll be taking Rayne's suggestion and giving a looksee throughThe Bread Lover's Bread Machine Cook Book and see what can't be done to make the next attempt better. I had really hoped to be able to make sourdough on my own, without relying on my bread machine, but I recognize inevitability when I see it.