When did Halloween start to require as much effort as Christmas? Actually, now that I think about it, Halloween is a bit more daunting than Christmas at my house since I take full advantage of Advent to think about the season, celebrate and prepare. And, of course, being the Type A planner that I am, I've had Christmas gifts and crafts ready and waiting since May.
But Halloween sneaks up on me and seems to require almost as much effort and planning with the benefit of neither an advent-type season nor socially-sanctioned months-in-advance planning. Getting the kids' costumes ready, the treats baked, pumpkins decorated, the crafts completed, the parties attended and house festive has required the efforts of two parents and one au pair and, lemme tell ya, we've not done everything that we'd been asked to do - AND, the actual trick-or-treating (once upon a time the only Halloween event worth talking about) hasn't even happened yet. Just this morning I told the Director of Entropy Girl's preschool that I had to take a Halloween Hiatus from the major fundraising project on which I am working and that my life is now divided into "before Halloween" and "after Halloween". This, to me, is an alarming state of affairs.
I am more than a little concerned about the escalation of Halloween festivities. I mean, Brainiac and I knew we wanted to give our kids the full Childhood Magic Package™, but the parameters of that goal are expanding all the time. Must every single moment be magical? Can we not, say, put on a pirate suit for one evening, collect a little candy, carve a pumpkin, maybe bob for an apple and call it a day? Why am I - and several parents of my acquaintance - planning for several costumes per child so that they (the kids and the costumes) make it through the fortnight of Halloween merrymaking? One night of magic and wonder is no longer enough, apparently - at least where All Souls are concerned.
So I'm about to pop (another) cranberry orange mini-muffin into my mouth (leftover from Entropy Girl's Sunday School party) to fortify me for today's round of events: costume parades and parties for both children, a visit to my mother-in-law in the hospital, a Halloween party set-up this evening and trying to finish the remaining work on one costume since Entropy girl's other two have not survived the week's round of pumpkin painting and cookie decorating. It's not so much the Souls I'm thinking about as the veil between the world thins tomorrow night, but rather whether my own soul can make it through.
Having completely bunged up the last time I was tagged (wrote a reminder on a sticky, found said sticky on the floor behind my desk when we moved two years later) I feel called upon to respond with haste to the tag suggested by Anyresemblance. No stickies on my watch! At least, not any more stickies.
a) Four job I have had in my life:
- Video store clerk
- Fundraiser
- Commercial voiceover person
- Knowledge Manager (prompting my father to exclaim, "That's not a real job!")
a) Four job I have had in my life:
- Video store clerk
- Fundraiser
- Commercial voiceover person
- Knowledge Manager (prompting my father to exclaim, "That's not a real job!")
b) Four movies I would watch over and over:
- A Room with a View
- Little Women (the 90s adaptation)
- Little Women (the one with Katherine Hepburn)
- Shirley Valentine
c) Four places I have lived:
- Buffalo, NY
- Canandiagua, NY
- Philadelphia, PA
- Charlottesville, VA
d) Four TV shows I love to watch:
- Alton Brown
- that one on HGTV where the people look at three houses and decide which one to buy
- Scrubs
- Uh..that's it. I don't think I have four, unless I can name the old Max Headroom series which is regretably not available on DVD
e) Four places I have visited:
- Berlin
- Vienna
- San Francisco
- Osh Kosh, Wisconsin
f) Four websites I visit daily:
- BBC
- CNN
- Weather.com
- Gawker.com
g) Four of my favorite foods:
- Melted cheese on toast
- Nutella on challah
- Banana yogurt
- Homemade mac-and-cheese
h) Four places I would like to be right now:
- A hot bath (in a bathroom not having to be cleaned by me)
- The kitchen
- On a trail in the middle of a yellow-leaved fall forest
- A fabric store, with a gift card
i) Four bloggers I'd like to tag:
- My sister, because I want to see what she says, to see if I already know.
- La Femme Follette, although she doesn't strike me as a taggy sort of girl - maybe if we all ask nice?
- Meg, because I think she'd be cool to know and her recipes always work.
- VoirDire SubCulture, because she and I lead lives of geographic proximity and I think she'd have interesting answers,
In Blue Jelly, Debby Bull writes of her efforts to pull herself out of a post-relationship depression through domestic achievement in general, and canning in particular. I read the book many years ago, I think in the early stages of my pregnancy with the Boy Wonder, and remember not thinking much of it at the time. I don't know what happened to my copy - given to a friend, perhaps, or donated or maybe sold on Half.com but in any case it's gone. Kind of wish I still had it, though, because that theme has been on my mind lately.
Looking back through my archives I see that I am most productive, canning-wise, when I am happy. The boiling water bath, the knife work, the slog of sterilizing and filling jars - it all serves to make me yet happier, to have an outlet for my mental and physical energies. I like the creative aspects, too. Thinking of new (to me, at least) uses for, say, pink grapefruit marmalade is fun. If happiness is a required state for me to fully express myself creatively - with canning as my primary medium and other domestic pursuits secondary - I think I've got a really good explanation for why we've been not so much on the canning around here.
It's said that realizing you have a problem is the first step to recovery. Let us then give three cheers for being conscious of what might just be sadness or what might be an actual depression. Last year at this time, Brainiac and I were trying to extricate ourselves from his graduate school, trying to get back to the Philadelphia area and just generally trying to salvage what was left of our sense of self after a rather poorly executed try at life in Charlottesville. I think we - or at least I - thought that once we got out of that house and back where we feel we belong everything else would just fall into place as if we'd never left. Of course, that could not possibly happen. You can't return to a life you've stepped out of, because that life no longer exists.
I still long for my pre-move house. I miss our church, the park down the street, the friends we'd started to make, everything. I've not really dealt with that sense of loss - perhaps because I thought that the loss would be temporary, that it was all just a matter of undoing the move to Virginia. And now I'm also faced with the ending of what I had thought would be a lifelong friendship, the departure of the BFF from my life - without anger or rancor, just both of us moving onto other things. I think a fight would be easier.
So. Blue Jelly, indeed. If canning while sad brought Debby Bull back 'round to happiness, perhaps it can work for me, too. It's apparent that I'm not naturally inclined to start new projects from within the veil of sadness but maybe doing so would trigger some kind of muscle-memory of happiness - Oh! my brain might say, "We only do this when we're happy, so happy we must be."
Remember that pineapple lime jam I was going to make? Yeah, me too.
Looking back through my archives I see that I am most productive, canning-wise, when I am happy. The boiling water bath, the knife work, the slog of sterilizing and filling jars - it all serves to make me yet happier, to have an outlet for my mental and physical energies. I like the creative aspects, too. Thinking of new (to me, at least) uses for, say, pink grapefruit marmalade is fun. If happiness is a required state for me to fully express myself creatively - with canning as my primary medium and other domestic pursuits secondary - I think I've got a really good explanation for why we've been not so much on the canning around here.
It's said that realizing you have a problem is the first step to recovery. Let us then give three cheers for being conscious of what might just be sadness or what might be an actual depression. Last year at this time, Brainiac and I were trying to extricate ourselves from his graduate school, trying to get back to the Philadelphia area and just generally trying to salvage what was left of our sense of self after a rather poorly executed try at life in Charlottesville. I think we - or at least I - thought that once we got out of that house and back where we feel we belong everything else would just fall into place as if we'd never left. Of course, that could not possibly happen. You can't return to a life you've stepped out of, because that life no longer exists.
I still long for my pre-move house. I miss our church, the park down the street, the friends we'd started to make, everything. I've not really dealt with that sense of loss - perhaps because I thought that the loss would be temporary, that it was all just a matter of undoing the move to Virginia. And now I'm also faced with the ending of what I had thought would be a lifelong friendship, the departure of the BFF from my life - without anger or rancor, just both of us moving onto other things. I think a fight would be easier.
So. Blue Jelly, indeed. If canning while sad brought Debby Bull back 'round to happiness, perhaps it can work for me, too. It's apparent that I'm not naturally inclined to start new projects from within the veil of sadness but maybe doing so would trigger some kind of muscle-memory of happiness - Oh! my brain might say, "We only do this when we're happy, so happy we must be."
Remember that pineapple lime jam I was going to make? Yeah, me too.
Tonight's entry will serve as a way to avoid the pumpkin that is currently sitting on my kitchen table awaiting not carving, but processing. It's pumpkin butter time and as much as I really, really want the output that actually doing the work will bring I am having trouble getting to it. It's been that kind of week.
Tonight Brainiac - who is having motivation problems of his own - and I attempted to reboot by heading out to dinner without the kids. We needed some thinking time and space to evaluate some of the crossroads (not enough to have a single crossroad - no, we seem to collect them) at which we find ourselves. In the words of Ferris Bueller, life moves pretty fast and we were having trouble finding time to sit down and hash stuff out. Nothing bad or icky but important nonetheless. I feel better for having sat across a quiet table and shared our thoughts on the subject. Of course, the duck potstickers and chevre gnocchi didn't hurt.
This week I finally opened a jar of this summer's dilly beans. Quite nice, as always. That dilly recipe is so dependable that it's kind of reassuring. How many things in life always come out pretty much as we expect, just about every time? Not at all a bad thing when staring down one or two of the aforementioned crossroads.
Tonight Brainiac - who is having motivation problems of his own - and I attempted to reboot by heading out to dinner without the kids. We needed some thinking time and space to evaluate some of the crossroads (not enough to have a single crossroad - no, we seem to collect them) at which we find ourselves. In the words of Ferris Bueller, life moves pretty fast and we were having trouble finding time to sit down and hash stuff out. Nothing bad or icky but important nonetheless. I feel better for having sat across a quiet table and shared our thoughts on the subject. Of course, the duck potstickers and chevre gnocchi didn't hurt.
This week I finally opened a jar of this summer's dilly beans. Quite nice, as always. That dilly recipe is so dependable that it's kind of reassuring. How many things in life always come out pretty much as we expect, just about every time? Not at all a bad thing when staring down one or two of the aforementioned crossroads.
Some time ago I received an e-mail from a nice woman named Renee Pottle asking if I maybe would like to take a look at her cookbook I Want My Dinner Now!, published by Hestia's Hearth. She explained that she wrote the book after a long career in Home Economics and teaching to help harried families eat healthier dinners. Seeing as the topic is on my mind almost constantly I happily agreed and a short while later a copy arrived in my mailbox.
Like other books with similar themes (the best known of which may be Saving Dinner) the book is aimed squarely at moms who probably have something other than cooking that they'd like to be doing or who find the job taxing. Ms. Pottle cleverly includes sixteen weeks of menus, shopping lists of basic pantry items and a chapter of rudimentary recipes all designed to get a kitchen up to speed, as it were, as well as good kitchen safety and hygeine information. These basics are covered quickly, but thoroughly, and a beginning cook will find them understandable and easily incorporated into a daily routine.
The recipes themselves are well laid out and written for either two or six servings, a nice touch, and organized into chapters with descriptive - albeit cutesy - titles like "Let's Use Those Appliances" and "Throw It In the Oven". It's evident that Ms. Pottle leans toward a solid, middle-American sensibility with regards to food. There is nothing particularly challenging, but slight touches of the exotic in the form of mild curries, the inclusion of rice noodles and Thai spices keep things from becoming too pedestrian.
I warned Ms. Pottle that I wouldn't write about the book unless the recipes I tried actually worked. To a one, they did. Many of the recipes don't fit into my family's taste at all - there are many in the sweet-and-sour and fruit-with-pork vein, which I do not care for at all - but those we did try worked well. Steve's Jambalaya was quite nice, not to mention easy, as was the ziti with bacon - a sort of riff on carbonara. None of the recipes has overlong lists of ingredients, great for a developing home cook, and the instructions are very clear. Someone looking to learn a few basics from a non-threatening source with no foodie agenda could do very well with I Want My Dinner Now as a sort of primer on the subjects of variety, technique and just generally how to get started.
I have two issues with the text, neither of which really take away from the book's overall goals. One has to do with the inclusion of ingredients like dried, minced onion and instant minced garlic. Ms. Pottle recommends them on the grounds that onion and garlic don't keep well, an assertion that startles me as I keep both around quite successfully for months at a time. Sure, proper storage conditions are important and I think it would have been great for readers to have been informed as to what they are. She steers clear of processed foods in general, which is great, but I wish she would have gone a little farther in this regard.
The second issue has to do with the thorny subject of authenticity. Long-time readers know that I am not a bugaboo on this subject although I do appreciate a glance in its direction. (This may be a good time to introduce the Hot Water Bath Authenticity Scale, with Sandra Lee of Semi-Homemade Fame at zero and Madhur Joffrey representing authenticity as a concept at ten. I am about, oh, say, a six or seven.)
I Want My Dinner Now makes no claim whatsoever to presenting authentic anything, so I realize it's not entirely fair to judge the book on such terms. Even so, a recipe for paella that doesn't include - or even mention - saffron kind of bothers me since saffron is kind of the whole point. Now, I've certainly made paella-esque things in my time, rice dishes that contained, say, chicken instead of seafood and no saffron (mostly on budgetary grounds) and I have no problem with the inclusion of a similar recipe here. My objection is that no effort is made to explain what paella really is, or why it's been altered for the book, perhaps for reasons of cost, skill or accessibility to a harried or beginning home cook - all perfectly valid and simply not addressed. Similar lapses are present for the curries, a "Thai" chicken which includes salsa, as well as something called a Ratatouille Bake, which features seasoned stuffing mix. In my opinion, if one is going to adapt or Americanize well-known and well-loved international recipes, one really ought to explain why.
Neither of my complaints is worth passing the book by altogether, though. Renee Pottle has accomplished what many cooks really want to do (including, if I may add, Amanda Hesser, as she describes in an essay in Cooking for Mr. Latte) by creating a repertoire of solid, dependable, enjoyable dishes to return to again and again. A developing home cook or even a reluctant family chef looking to make the job easier may well find a lot to like in I Want My Dinner Now And I am certainly going to make that Jambalaya again - the kids loved it.
Like other books with similar themes (the best known of which may be Saving Dinner) the book is aimed squarely at moms who probably have something other than cooking that they'd like to be doing or who find the job taxing. Ms. Pottle cleverly includes sixteen weeks of menus, shopping lists of basic pantry items and a chapter of rudimentary recipes all designed to get a kitchen up to speed, as it were, as well as good kitchen safety and hygeine information. These basics are covered quickly, but thoroughly, and a beginning cook will find them understandable and easily incorporated into a daily routine.
The recipes themselves are well laid out and written for either two or six servings, a nice touch, and organized into chapters with descriptive - albeit cutesy - titles like "Let's Use Those Appliances" and "Throw It In the Oven". It's evident that Ms. Pottle leans toward a solid, middle-American sensibility with regards to food. There is nothing particularly challenging, but slight touches of the exotic in the form of mild curries, the inclusion of rice noodles and Thai spices keep things from becoming too pedestrian.
I warned Ms. Pottle that I wouldn't write about the book unless the recipes I tried actually worked. To a one, they did. Many of the recipes don't fit into my family's taste at all - there are many in the sweet-and-sour and fruit-with-pork vein, which I do not care for at all - but those we did try worked well. Steve's Jambalaya was quite nice, not to mention easy, as was the ziti with bacon - a sort of riff on carbonara. None of the recipes has overlong lists of ingredients, great for a developing home cook, and the instructions are very clear. Someone looking to learn a few basics from a non-threatening source with no foodie agenda could do very well with I Want My Dinner Now as a sort of primer on the subjects of variety, technique and just generally how to get started.
I have two issues with the text, neither of which really take away from the book's overall goals. One has to do with the inclusion of ingredients like dried, minced onion and instant minced garlic. Ms. Pottle recommends them on the grounds that onion and garlic don't keep well, an assertion that startles me as I keep both around quite successfully for months at a time. Sure, proper storage conditions are important and I think it would have been great for readers to have been informed as to what they are. She steers clear of processed foods in general, which is great, but I wish she would have gone a little farther in this regard.
The second issue has to do with the thorny subject of authenticity. Long-time readers know that I am not a bugaboo on this subject although I do appreciate a glance in its direction. (This may be a good time to introduce the Hot Water Bath Authenticity Scale, with Sandra Lee of Semi-Homemade Fame at zero and Madhur Joffrey representing authenticity as a concept at ten. I am about, oh, say, a six or seven.)
I Want My Dinner Now makes no claim whatsoever to presenting authentic anything, so I realize it's not entirely fair to judge the book on such terms. Even so, a recipe for paella that doesn't include - or even mention - saffron kind of bothers me since saffron is kind of the whole point. Now, I've certainly made paella-esque things in my time, rice dishes that contained, say, chicken instead of seafood and no saffron (mostly on budgetary grounds) and I have no problem with the inclusion of a similar recipe here. My objection is that no effort is made to explain what paella really is, or why it's been altered for the book, perhaps for reasons of cost, skill or accessibility to a harried or beginning home cook - all perfectly valid and simply not addressed. Similar lapses are present for the curries, a "Thai" chicken which includes salsa, as well as something called a Ratatouille Bake, which features seasoned stuffing mix. In my opinion, if one is going to adapt or Americanize well-known and well-loved international recipes, one really ought to explain why.
Neither of my complaints is worth passing the book by altogether, though. Renee Pottle has accomplished what many cooks really want to do (including, if I may add, Amanda Hesser, as she describes in an essay in Cooking for Mr. Latte) by creating a repertoire of solid, dependable, enjoyable dishes to return to again and again. A developing home cook or even a reluctant family chef looking to make the job easier may well find a lot to like in I Want My Dinner Now And I am certainly going to make that Jambalaya again - the kids loved it.
It appears that comments have gone haywire again. I'll add it to my list of things to worry about and see what can't be done. In the meantime, I've got a new e-mail address. At least I can say I got something done today!
ETA: Wow, look at me go. Comments fixed and even the archives are back. I'd love to take credit but apparently choosing a new template will do this for a person. Now off for more work avoidance to fix my links. Rock on little blogger!
ETA: Wow, look at me go. Comments fixed and even the archives are back. I'd love to take credit but apparently choosing a new template will do this for a person. Now off for more work avoidance to fix my links. Rock on little blogger!
A thousand apologies, Internet friends. I just cannot figure out this Beta Blogger thing and every day brings a fresh new blogging hell. It has been rough. Press on, though, shall we?
As I type I am sitting (alone!)in a Wegman's internet cafe place, sipping a decaf gingerbread latte (oh my God I have hit coffee bottom with this one - absolutely no coffee cred left it seems - but wow is it delicious) and enjoying a spot of their free wireless. Despite the pain eminating from my ankles, knees, hips, wrists and back from last night's 2 a.m. fall down the stairs I must say that this whole set-up is rather nice. It would be nicer if I had an Advil or three, but no complaints.
I had planned to finally post that review of I Want My Dinner Now but I think I will do that tomorrow. Instead, I want to share the following, with the review coming later this week (I promise. No, really, I swear.):
Entropy Girl and the Boy Wonder both have swimming lessons on Saturday morning. Entropy Girl's are a half hour, and she is the oldest kid in the class, at 32 months. Most of the other little "pikes" in the "pike and parent" class are anywhere from nine through 24 months. Anyway, at every class the teachers have us stand in a circle in the shallow end holding our babes and ask a question about the children. The first week it was the kids' names and birthdays and the second week was their favorite food - you know, pretty benign get-to-know-you stuff. Two weeks ago we were asked for favorite games. Fair enough. Entropy Girl likes to play Hungry Hippos and have pretend tea parties. Little Shaney likes her toy ponies, Everitt likes balls and so on and so forth. We get to the last dad in the circle who proudly holds his not-yet-toddler in front of him, clears his throat, beams and proclaims "Atticus loves flashcards!"
I was sure he was being ironic and didn't bother to stifle my guffaw. Turns out he was most definitely not being ironic and shot me dirty looks for the rest of the session. This week he stared right at me, holding my gaze as if daring me to laugh, while he answered the question as to favorite television shows thusly: "Atticus prefers books to television. He finds them more stimulating." Holding to the community spirit of the YMCA, I held my giggle and merely rolled my eyes. No doubt next week's question will involve career aspirations and we will learn that Atticus is scheduled to sit for the bar.
As I type I am sitting (alone!)in a Wegman's internet cafe place, sipping a decaf gingerbread latte (oh my God I have hit coffee bottom with this one - absolutely no coffee cred left it seems - but wow is it delicious) and enjoying a spot of their free wireless. Despite the pain eminating from my ankles, knees, hips, wrists and back from last night's 2 a.m. fall down the stairs I must say that this whole set-up is rather nice. It would be nicer if I had an Advil or three, but no complaints.
I had planned to finally post that review of I Want My Dinner Now but I think I will do that tomorrow. Instead, I want to share the following, with the review coming later this week (I promise. No, really, I swear.):
Entropy Girl and the Boy Wonder both have swimming lessons on Saturday morning. Entropy Girl's are a half hour, and she is the oldest kid in the class, at 32 months. Most of the other little "pikes" in the "pike and parent" class are anywhere from nine through 24 months. Anyway, at every class the teachers have us stand in a circle in the shallow end holding our babes and ask a question about the children. The first week it was the kids' names and birthdays and the second week was their favorite food - you know, pretty benign get-to-know-you stuff. Two weeks ago we were asked for favorite games. Fair enough. Entropy Girl likes to play Hungry Hippos and have pretend tea parties. Little Shaney likes her toy ponies, Everitt likes balls and so on and so forth. We get to the last dad in the circle who proudly holds his not-yet-toddler in front of him, clears his throat, beams and proclaims "Atticus loves flashcards!"
I was sure he was being ironic and didn't bother to stifle my guffaw. Turns out he was most definitely not being ironic and shot me dirty looks for the rest of the session. This week he stared right at me, holding my gaze as if daring me to laugh, while he answered the question as to favorite television shows thusly: "Atticus prefers books to television. He finds them more stimulating." Holding to the community spirit of the YMCA, I held my giggle and merely rolled my eyes. No doubt next week's question will involve career aspirations and we will learn that Atticus is scheduled to sit for the bar.
Today we hosted the Boy Wonder's sixth birthday party. In the event that my admitedly rudimentary cake decorating skills do not make this obvious, this was a NASA-themed party. This cake is meant to resemble the moon, although without the lunar landing module you would be forgiven for not quite getting that.
Sigh. My baby is six. This has been rather hard on me, perhaps because there's the whole "official school-age" thing, too. I don't know. In any case, the party was enjoyed by all, "all" in this case meaning seven kids ages five and six. The adults present are all now quite exhausted.
Because we have apparently entered the birthday party = a couple hours childcare zone with this event, I didn't plan on lots of adult entertainment as I have in previous years. This year's birthday party philosophy dictates that the kids must be kept moving for the entire two hours and under no circumstances should encounter an unprogrammed second. While lots of unstructured time was quite charming at ages 4 and 5, the amount and variety of trouble a bunch of six year old boys can find alarms me, so for an afternoon that involves drop-off playtime in conjunction with lots of sugar (see also: moon birthday cake) just call me Cruise Director Mommy.
I don't think it can be underestimated the joy that diet coke/mento rockets brings to the pre-K/K crowd (not to mention any geeky parents they might have lurking about). Followed by little foam finger rocket thingies, a paper airplane distance flight contest, a space shuttle pinata and something else I've already blocked out, well, in the words of one guest, "This is a great party! The mess is awesome!" And, really, isn't that the point?
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