from someone else.
It's not as if I don't have thoughts to blog about here. It's just that I can't seem to find the time (or at least the synchronized time and motivation) to organize them coherently. I've started a half-dozen draft posts on various thoughts, but they just won't complete themselves. So, for now, some thoughts on Easter traditions.
3/30/2010
3/28/2010
Green M&Ms and Thanks-giving
We are indeed expecting a new bundle of joy, and I am intensely thankful for it. My dad says it's the green M&Ms you have to watch out for, so beware! (Shouldn't they put a warning on those?)
Baby should come some time around Thanksgiving, which seems appropriate. I hope to never take the miracle of a baby for granted. As a friend said recently, I want to treat each pregnancy, each baby, as if it were going to be my one and only and appreciate it completely. When one day the realization comes that one really was the last one, I want to have no regrets.
My thoughts repeatedly turn to the women who cannot bear a child and to the children whose parents are absent, and my heart aches for them. It is strange to be so joyful and so aware of grief at the same time. We cannot fully know why God blesses us in different ways or why He allows us to suffer deeply, and the only way I know to respect grief in the midst of joy is to respond with a grateful heart for the blessings I have and to teach my children to do the same.
I cannot begin to understand the ways of God. His thoughts are beyond searching out. Yet this I know: God is good, and He gives good gifts for His glory and our good. Whatever our current blessings are, let's appreciate them to the fullest and give our Lord the glory.
Baby should come some time around Thanksgiving, which seems appropriate. I hope to never take the miracle of a baby for granted. As a friend said recently, I want to treat each pregnancy, each baby, as if it were going to be my one and only and appreciate it completely. When one day the realization comes that one really was the last one, I want to have no regrets.
My thoughts repeatedly turn to the women who cannot bear a child and to the children whose parents are absent, and my heart aches for them. It is strange to be so joyful and so aware of grief at the same time. We cannot fully know why God blesses us in different ways or why He allows us to suffer deeply, and the only way I know to respect grief in the midst of joy is to respond with a grateful heart for the blessings I have and to teach my children to do the same.
I cannot begin to understand the ways of God. His thoughts are beyond searching out. Yet this I know: God is good, and He gives good gifts for His glory and our good. Whatever our current blessings are, let's appreciate them to the fullest and give our Lord the glory.
2/16/2010
A Lesson for Two in Obedience and Forgiveness
Carolyn was not happy that I went downstairs to put a load of laundry in the washer, but I went anyway. Sometimes she fusses the whole time I'm downstairs, sometimes she and I call back and forth to each other playfully, sometimes she amuses herself. This time she must have been feeling a bit vindictive.
It happens occasionally. Kevin or I remind Carolyn that she is not allowed to do something she is about to do, and she responds by immediately going through a series of prohibited activities. But if no one is here to hinder the series, she really only needs one. And the trash can, in front of the basement door, presented itself all too readily.
Unfortunately, the "clean" trash in the top of the can was covered in mostly-dry coffee grounds. So when I returned from my trip below, I found a toddler, a floor, and sundry garbage articles covered in black dust.
Before her name had even completely escaped, I remembered. "If you allow unholy anger to muddy the correction process, you are wrong. You need to ask forgiveness. Your right to discipline your children is tied to what God has called you to do, not your own agenda."* In order to discipline, I could not be angry. I had to be calm. By grace, God caught me just in time. I dusted Carolyn off and calmly took her to her bedroom.
Our discipline procedure ends with prayer for forgiveness, and we hold hands for that. Today, although Carolyn signed "I'm sorry" to me readily, she refused to hold my hands. I could have forced her, of course, but it seems that forcing the prayer that is supposed to close the issue leaves an unrepentant attitude woefully unaddressed. She hugged me over and over, but refused to pray with me. So I kept her on my lap until she was ready. I told her about God's love, about Christ's sacrifice, about sin and repentance and forgiveness. Before long, she reached for both my hands and waited. I prayed, and she cheerfully got down.
I then went to clean up the mess. Carolyn followed me. She would have helped if I had let her, but I didn't want her messy again. So she stood watching and saying, "no, no" over and over. I agreed and reminded her the trashcan was off-limits, thinking that would be the end of it. But she just stood there, "no, no" again and again until I said, "You're right, we don't play in the trash. But you said you were sorry and we prayed and you're forgiven, so we can start over." She gave an emphatic "yeah" and ran off to play, leaving me sweeping coffee grounds.
You could argue that I make too much of these things. Carolyn isn't quite 18 months, after all. But I know she understands so much more than she can say right now. Her physical responses, her expressions, her tone of voice--they are all right for the situation. I know her comprehension is limited. So is mine. "For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face; now I know in part, but then I will know fully just as I also have been fully known."** She may not comprehend the finer doctrinal points of her sin and guilt, but she is learning the necessary response. And I am enormously, unspeakably grateful for her baby steps. . .and mine.
*Shepherding a Child's Heart, by Tedd Tripp, chapter 4. He goes on later to quote James 1:19-20, "My dear brothers, take note of this: Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry, for man's anger does not bring about the righteous life that God desires." and comment "If you correct and discipline your children because God mandates it, then you need not clutter up the task with your anger. Correction is not your showing anger for their offenses; it is rather reminding them that their sinful behavior offends God. It is bringing His censure of sin to these subjects of His realm. He is the King. They must obey." and "If correction orbits around the parent who has been offended, then the focus will be venting anger or, perhaps, taking vengeance. The function is punitive. If, however, correction orbits around God as the one offended, then the focus is restoration. The function is remedial. It is designed to move a child who has disobeyed God back to the path of obedience. It is corrective."
**1 Corinthians 13:12
It happens occasionally. Kevin or I remind Carolyn that she is not allowed to do something she is about to do, and she responds by immediately going through a series of prohibited activities. But if no one is here to hinder the series, she really only needs one. And the trash can, in front of the basement door, presented itself all too readily.
Unfortunately, the "clean" trash in the top of the can was covered in mostly-dry coffee grounds. So when I returned from my trip below, I found a toddler, a floor, and sundry garbage articles covered in black dust.
Before her name had even completely escaped, I remembered. "If you allow unholy anger to muddy the correction process, you are wrong. You need to ask forgiveness. Your right to discipline your children is tied to what God has called you to do, not your own agenda."* In order to discipline, I could not be angry. I had to be calm. By grace, God caught me just in time. I dusted Carolyn off and calmly took her to her bedroom.
Our discipline procedure ends with prayer for forgiveness, and we hold hands for that. Today, although Carolyn signed "I'm sorry" to me readily, she refused to hold my hands. I could have forced her, of course, but it seems that forcing the prayer that is supposed to close the issue leaves an unrepentant attitude woefully unaddressed. She hugged me over and over, but refused to pray with me. So I kept her on my lap until she was ready. I told her about God's love, about Christ's sacrifice, about sin and repentance and forgiveness. Before long, she reached for both my hands and waited. I prayed, and she cheerfully got down.
I then went to clean up the mess. Carolyn followed me. She would have helped if I had let her, but I didn't want her messy again. So she stood watching and saying, "no, no" over and over. I agreed and reminded her the trashcan was off-limits, thinking that would be the end of it. But she just stood there, "no, no" again and again until I said, "You're right, we don't play in the trash. But you said you were sorry and we prayed and you're forgiven, so we can start over." She gave an emphatic "yeah" and ran off to play, leaving me sweeping coffee grounds.
You could argue that I make too much of these things. Carolyn isn't quite 18 months, after all. But I know she understands so much more than she can say right now. Her physical responses, her expressions, her tone of voice--they are all right for the situation. I know her comprehension is limited. So is mine. "For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face; now I know in part, but then I will know fully just as I also have been fully known."** She may not comprehend the finer doctrinal points of her sin and guilt, but she is learning the necessary response. And I am enormously, unspeakably grateful for her baby steps. . .and mine.
*Shepherding a Child's Heart, by Tedd Tripp, chapter 4. He goes on later to quote James 1:19-20, "My dear brothers, take note of this: Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry, for man's anger does not bring about the righteous life that God desires." and comment "If you correct and discipline your children because God mandates it, then you need not clutter up the task with your anger. Correction is not your showing anger for their offenses; it is rather reminding them that their sinful behavior offends God. It is bringing His censure of sin to these subjects of His realm. He is the King. They must obey." and "If correction orbits around the parent who has been offended, then the focus will be venting anger or, perhaps, taking vengeance. The function is punitive. If, however, correction orbits around God as the one offended, then the focus is restoration. The function is remedial. It is designed to move a child who has disobeyed God back to the path of obedience. It is corrective."
**1 Corinthians 13:12
2/15/2010
Foreshadowing
I can't completely relate to this yet (she has 4 kids to my single), but I get the feeling, and it made me laugh.
2/13/2010
The Icicle of Icicles
It's hard to tell from a picture, but it looked as big around as I am, and those windows it's out-reaching are six feet long, not counting the space between the top of the window and the roof.
On Parental Authority
I've been reading Shepherding a Child's Heart, by Tedd Tripp, and I thought I would share this quote.
As a parent, you have authority because God calls you to be an authority in your child's life. You have the authority to act on behalf of God. As a father or mother, you do not exercise rule over your jurisdiction, but over God's. You act at His command. You discharge a duty that He has given. You may not try to shape the lives of your children as pleases you, but as pleases Him.
2/12/2010
Another Thing to Tuck Away
A post for mothers here.
The most awfully beautiful part of homeschooling is that I miss nothing. Day in and day out, I miss nothing. Perhaps that makes it all the more bittersweet to send a beloved child off on an adventure of their own? I don't know. But for me, the closeness begets a sense of comfort and joy that I hold on to, knowing that it's season is all too soon coming to an end.
I have made no mention of any of this to Jo. I think that sometimes the worst sin we can commit as mothers is to clip the wings of joy as they sprout in our children by saddling them with a bit of our own longing. Instead of holding her closer and whispering, "Come back to me safely. Don't be gone long," I smile at her as we stand side by side at the kitchen sink and say, "What an amazing adventure God has planned for you! I can feel it!" Instead of biting my lip and telling her how very empty my days will feel without her smile in the sea of faces around me, I kiss her forehead and let her know how delighted her father is to have her as a traveling companion.
2/10/2010
Snow Totals
Now that the snow has almost ended, the reports are coming in. For us, it looks like roughly 20 inches in the past 30 hours--add that to our roughly 27 from the weekend, and we're looking at snow 4 feet deep!
2/06/2010
Snow, Snow, Snow, Snow
If you didn't sing that title in your head, I'm sorry.
24.5", still snowing, and supposed to continue until almost midnight!
24.5", still snowing, and supposed to continue until almost midnight!
2/02/2010
Baking with Carrots
By request, here are 2 of the recipes I used last weekend. I think that either of these could be made with half wheat flour (or with all wheat pastry flour), but I have not tried it yet. Also, for the buns, I think I would leave out the orange peel in the future. It's good for a BBQ sandwich, but might be a little strange in some things.
Carrot Muffins (from the King Arthur Flour company)
2 1/4 c flour
1/2 c sugar
1/4 c brown sugar
1 1/2 t baking powder
1/4 t baking soda
1 1/2 t cinnamon
3/4 t ginger
3/4 t salt
1/3 c golden raisins
1/3 c diced walnuts
2 lg. eggs
3/4 c water
1/3 c vegetable oil
1 c grated carrots, lightly packed
Whisk together all dry ingredients, including raisins and walnuts. Whisk together wet ingredients. Stir together. Fold in carrots. Bake in greased muffin cups for 20 minutes at 400. Cool in pan 5 min.
Cheese & Carrot Sandwich Buns (from Pillsbury)
1 c water
1 c milk
2 pkg active dry yeast (or 4 1/2 t.)
2 T sugar
1 1/2 t. salt
1 c finely shredded carrots
1/4 c Crisco
4 oz. shredded Cheddar (1 c)
1 t grated orange peel
1 egg
5 1/2-6 1/2 c flour
Heat water and milk to 100-110 degrees. In a large bowl, dissolve yeast and 1 t. of the sugar in warm liquid. Stir in remaining sugar, salt, carrots, shortening, cheese, orange peel, and egg; mix well. Add 3 c flour. Blend on low until moistened, then beat 3 minutes on medium. By hand, stir in 2 to 2 1/2 c flour until dough pulls cleanly away from sides of bowl. Knead in remaining flour until smooth and elastic, about 10 minutes (will be soft and slightly sticky). Place dough in greased bowl; cover loosely. Let rise in warm place until doubled, 45-60 min.
Punch down dough several times. Divide into 18 pieces. Shape into balls, then flatten slightly on greased cookie sheets. Cover and let rise until doubled, about 30 minutes.
Bake 13-18 minutes at 375, until golden brown. Remove from cookie sheets immediately.
Carrot Muffins (from the King Arthur Flour company)
2 1/4 c flour
1/2 c sugar
1/4 c brown sugar
1 1/2 t baking powder
1/4 t baking soda
1 1/2 t cinnamon
3/4 t ginger
3/4 t salt
1/3 c golden raisins
1/3 c diced walnuts
2 lg. eggs
3/4 c water
1/3 c vegetable oil
1 c grated carrots, lightly packed
Whisk together all dry ingredients, including raisins and walnuts. Whisk together wet ingredients. Stir together. Fold in carrots. Bake in greased muffin cups for 20 minutes at 400. Cool in pan 5 min.
Cheese & Carrot Sandwich Buns (from Pillsbury)
1 c water
1 c milk
2 pkg active dry yeast (or 4 1/2 t.)
2 T sugar
1 1/2 t. salt
1 c finely shredded carrots
1/4 c Crisco
4 oz. shredded Cheddar (1 c)
1 t grated orange peel
1 egg
5 1/2-6 1/2 c flour
Heat water and milk to 100-110 degrees. In a large bowl, dissolve yeast and 1 t. of the sugar in warm liquid. Stir in remaining sugar, salt, carrots, shortening, cheese, orange peel, and egg; mix well. Add 3 c flour. Blend on low until moistened, then beat 3 minutes on medium. By hand, stir in 2 to 2 1/2 c flour until dough pulls cleanly away from sides of bowl. Knead in remaining flour until smooth and elastic, about 10 minutes (will be soft and slightly sticky). Place dough in greased bowl; cover loosely. Let rise in warm place until doubled, 45-60 min.
Punch down dough several times. Divide into 18 pieces. Shape into balls, then flatten slightly on greased cookie sheets. Cover and let rise until doubled, about 30 minutes.
Bake 13-18 minutes at 375, until golden brown. Remove from cookie sheets immediately.
1/27/2010
Faucets and Fish
Our kitchen faucet sprang a spray-leak in the neck quite some time ago. As there are quite a few things to be done around here and it was not a priority, we (of course) duct-taped it. When my sprayer quit working reliably, however, I drew the line. Not certain what we wanted in the way of a new kitchen faucet for our years-down-the-road remodeled cooking area, we decided just to get an inexpensive, decent faucet. We selected a nice Delta chrome thing--nothing fancy, but quite serviceable. Imagine my glee when, walking past the Clearance Endcap (where I've dutifully checked for a lovable faucet for months), I found The Faucet! For the same price as the Delta chrome thing! And also from a trustworthy brand!
Kevin and Jim kindly installed it yesterday, and I'm in dish-washing bliss. Or at least as near to that as exists.
In other exciting news, Carolyn received an aquarium from her grandparents for Christmas, and we bought fish for it. Little did we know our gold Balloon Molly (who declined to be photographed) was a soon-to-be mommy.
Currently, we have 8 living--painstakingly rescued in our make-shift nursery until we make it back to the pet store. The all-knowing Internet says mollies give birth in numbers ranging from 12 to 100. I've seen a half-dozen dead already, so hopefully we're done. We really can't keep all these fish, anyway. Anybody want a molly?
The pictures aren't stellar, but. . .well, it's difficult to capture tiny moving fish through glass and water.
Kevin and Jim kindly installed it yesterday, and I'm in dish-washing bliss. Or at least as near to that as exists.
In other exciting news, Carolyn received an aquarium from her grandparents for Christmas, and we bought fish for it. Little did we know our gold Balloon Molly (who declined to be photographed) was a soon-to-be mommy.
Currently, we have 8 living--painstakingly rescued in our make-shift nursery until we make it back to the pet store. The all-knowing Internet says mollies give birth in numbers ranging from 12 to 100. I've seen a half-dozen dead already, so hopefully we're done. We really can't keep all these fish, anyway. Anybody want a molly?
The pictures aren't stellar, but. . .well, it's difficult to capture tiny moving fish through glass and water.
1/21/2010
The Great Lunch Stand-Off
Carolyn and I are having the occasional mini-skirmish now. Today's lasted longer than any yet. It all started--and ended--with lunch.
My daughter generally communicates quite clearly what she does and does not want. Today, as usual around noon, I asked, "Do you want lunch?" A "yes" and a nod later, we were off to the kitchen. I got out frozen chicken-carrots-and-rice, confirmed that she was indeed ready to eat, and heated it for her. I knew we were in trouble when she started whimpering as I spooned it into her bowl.
Three and a half hours later, she ate it. Cold. Hungrily. Happily. With many interruptions for affectionate hugs. This is how it all went down.
With her hot food in hand, I sat Carolyn in her chair, strapping and bibbing her amid protests and whines. She never took a bite, though I offered and encouraged in several ways. She continued whimpering, refusing her drink as well, and ultimately signing that she wanted to get up. I explained that she either needed to eat lunch or go ahead and take a nap. She still wanted up. So, she took a nap. I laid her in her crib, patted her back briefly, and left the room, expecting screams to erupt. But she went to sleep without a sound.
Too hastily assuming we'd leaped the hurdle, I ate my own lunch and waited for her to wake up. She did, an hour later, and asked to nurse. Since she normally nurses before her nap--and since she said "no" to lunch--I nursed her. A little while later, I asked, and she said "yes," she wanted lunch. We went to the kitchen, affirmed that she wanted lunch, that she wanted what was in her bowl, that she wanted it in the microwave.
So when she started whimpering again upon taking it out of the microwave, I wasn't feeling sympathetic. We repeated this once more later on, with a good deal of interim playing, fussing, and asking vainly to nurse. I lost count of how many times I gently explained that she could choose to eat lunch, to play happily, or to fuss by herself in her room.
When she finally said "yes" to lunch again, I quickly started feeding her, not waiting to warm it up and have her change her mind again. And she devoured all but 3 bites. . .which she came back to ask for later. And hugged me again and again and again, so sweetly. She seemed to really know that she'd been wrong and needed to seek forgiveness, as we practice when she is disciplined.
That would be a win in itself. But it's even better, because, by God's grace, I didn't get angry. I was frustrated, absolutely. I doubted whether I was making the right call. I even called Kevin at work. But I kept it all inside, calmly and cheerfully and sympathetically giving Carolyn her options again and again and again.
It may seem a small victory. It may even be a small victory. But I am not perfect, and small frustrations do get to me. I am constantly, painfully aware that how I respond now--and how I allow Carolyn to respond now--sets the stage for our interaction next year. . .and in two years, three years, five years, ten and fifteen years. If I can't respond lovingly and biblically when my toddler doesn't want to eat lunch, how will I ever respond well to the challenges of childhood and adolescence? And so, small step though it is, it bears hope--hope that I may guide my daughter well, hope that my teachable 16-month-old will one day be a still-teachable 16-year-old.
I hear the detractors even now: we haven't even hit the "terrible twos" yet. Teenage strife is inevitable. I'm young and naive.
And I close my ears. I don't believe in terrible twos or inevitable teenage angst. I know two-year-olds who obey their parents, and I know teenagers who act like the young men and women they should be, rather than the overgrown children our culture expects. And, best of all, I know the grace of an Almighty God that encourages my heart in these first little parenting trials.
For, though I may laugh at The Great Lunch Stand-Off of 2010 now that it's over, my little girl's pitiful "no-o-o, no-o-o" whimpers and pleading signs for milk, "p-eeease" were hard to refuse. And I was more than happy to fix her favorite meal for dinner tonight.
My daughter generally communicates quite clearly what she does and does not want. Today, as usual around noon, I asked, "Do you want lunch?" A "yes" and a nod later, we were off to the kitchen. I got out frozen chicken-carrots-and-rice, confirmed that she was indeed ready to eat, and heated it for her. I knew we were in trouble when she started whimpering as I spooned it into her bowl.
Three and a half hours later, she ate it. Cold. Hungrily. Happily. With many interruptions for affectionate hugs. This is how it all went down.
With her hot food in hand, I sat Carolyn in her chair, strapping and bibbing her amid protests and whines. She never took a bite, though I offered and encouraged in several ways. She continued whimpering, refusing her drink as well, and ultimately signing that she wanted to get up. I explained that she either needed to eat lunch or go ahead and take a nap. She still wanted up. So, she took a nap. I laid her in her crib, patted her back briefly, and left the room, expecting screams to erupt. But she went to sleep without a sound.
Too hastily assuming we'd leaped the hurdle, I ate my own lunch and waited for her to wake up. She did, an hour later, and asked to nurse. Since she normally nurses before her nap--and since she said "no" to lunch--I nursed her. A little while later, I asked, and she said "yes," she wanted lunch. We went to the kitchen, affirmed that she wanted lunch, that she wanted what was in her bowl, that she wanted it in the microwave.
So when she started whimpering again upon taking it out of the microwave, I wasn't feeling sympathetic. We repeated this once more later on, with a good deal of interim playing, fussing, and asking vainly to nurse. I lost count of how many times I gently explained that she could choose to eat lunch, to play happily, or to fuss by herself in her room.
When she finally said "yes" to lunch again, I quickly started feeding her, not waiting to warm it up and have her change her mind again. And she devoured all but 3 bites. . .which she came back to ask for later. And hugged me again and again and again, so sweetly. She seemed to really know that she'd been wrong and needed to seek forgiveness, as we practice when she is disciplined.
That would be a win in itself. But it's even better, because, by God's grace, I didn't get angry. I was frustrated, absolutely. I doubted whether I was making the right call. I even called Kevin at work. But I kept it all inside, calmly and cheerfully and sympathetically giving Carolyn her options again and again and again.
It may seem a small victory. It may even be a small victory. But I am not perfect, and small frustrations do get to me. I am constantly, painfully aware that how I respond now--and how I allow Carolyn to respond now--sets the stage for our interaction next year. . .and in two years, three years, five years, ten and fifteen years. If I can't respond lovingly and biblically when my toddler doesn't want to eat lunch, how will I ever respond well to the challenges of childhood and adolescence? And so, small step though it is, it bears hope--hope that I may guide my daughter well, hope that my teachable 16-month-old will one day be a still-teachable 16-year-old.
I hear the detractors even now: we haven't even hit the "terrible twos" yet. Teenage strife is inevitable. I'm young and naive.
And I close my ears. I don't believe in terrible twos or inevitable teenage angst. I know two-year-olds who obey their parents, and I know teenagers who act like the young men and women they should be, rather than the overgrown children our culture expects. And, best of all, I know the grace of an Almighty God that encourages my heart in these first little parenting trials.
For, though I may laugh at The Great Lunch Stand-Off of 2010 now that it's over, my little girl's pitiful "no-o-o, no-o-o" whimpers and pleading signs for milk, "p-eeease" were hard to refuse. And I was more than happy to fix her favorite meal for dinner tonight.
12/26/2009
Christmas
After presents, stockings, and a fabulous fridge-to-oven breakfast of Cinnamon Twists (Thanks, Kristen!) and a breakfast casserole, we settled into an easy day. Since Kevin and I didn't make it to bed until about 3:30am Christmas Eve (Christmas Day?), we all took a 2-hour nap in the afternoon. Thus, we had to make do without homemade rolls and gingerbread at dinner. Nonetheless, we enjoyed dinner by candlelight: spiced-cider-glazed pork tenderloin, sweet potato casserole (southern style, loaded with butter and sugar!), cheddar-broccoli-rice casserole, bakery rolls (purchased just-in-case). Carolyn devoured 3 helpings of sweet potato casserole (sans nut topping, of course), which I mixed with a bit of shredded pork tenderloin after the first serving disappeared so quickly.
We opened our gifts after dinner. Kevin built me a beautiful storage bench/stool for the kitchen that I am so proud of. And he's sending me to a knife-skills class that promises to be fun and enlightening, so I can be a betterninja--ummm. . .chef. And our annual family self-portrait turned out a bit fuzzy, as I was too busy keeping a sleepy girl happy to stay still for the lens to focus correctly. Maybe we'll try again today.
After Carolyn went to bed, we enjoyed Spiced-Cider Sorbet and watched "White Christmas," even as the rain and the clock melted ours away.
It was a beautiful Christmas.
We opened our gifts after dinner. Kevin built me a beautiful storage bench/stool for the kitchen that I am so proud of. And he's sending me to a knife-skills class that promises to be fun and enlightening, so I can be a better
After Carolyn went to bed, we enjoyed Spiced-Cider Sorbet and watched "White Christmas," even as the rain and the clock melted ours away.
It was a beautiful Christmas.
12/21/2009
The Stockings are Hung
I finished the last 2 stockings today and hung them all carefully from the curtain rod. Here's the final product:
And, because I'm a little too pleased with myself, here's a close-up of each one:
And, because I'm a little too pleased with myself, here's a close-up of each one:
11/27/2009
Thanksgiving Report
With the return of a quiet and empty (except for the Christmas music playing and the Carolyn singing from her crib) house, I'm back to report on the Thanksgiving Day results.
We stuck to the schedule pretty closely and sat down to eat only 30 minutes later than I anticipated. I call that good. The old recipes were characteristically fabulous and the new recipes were (somewhat surprisingly) all hits with most of us.
This is my refrigerator Wednesday night: arranged, rearranged, and crammed to the brim to accomodate my large water-bath canner with brining turkey inside.
The Food List and Preparation Schedule:
Pie Preparations (gotta work on the cook time and temperature for a deep dish fresh pumpkin pie).
New roll recipe, Sweet Potato Twists. These were beautiful and delicious. Many thanks to my mother-in-law for making them, as my hands were too dry and cracked to knead dough in a sanitary fashion.
The Table (My aunt sets a beautiful table, does she not? I need her around to help me use my china to its full potential.)
The Turkey, pre-carving. A new recipe this year produced by far the best result yet, and there wasn't anything wrong with the previous years. But THIS. . .well it was the best turkey I've ever had, I think. We'll be saving this recipe for next year. . .if I wait that long.
The Buffet. From left to right: Green Bean Casserole, Vegetable Casserole, Dressing, Sweet Potato-Cranberry Galette, Cranberry-Strawberry Jello Salad, Turkey, Butternut Squash and Cheese Pannade, Mashed Potatoes. Not pictured: Deviled Eggs, Crudites, Gravy, Rolls, Pumpkin Pie, Tennessee Whiskey Cake, Whipped Cream
All in all, I was tremendously pleased with the outcome. I'm ever so thankful that I wasn't on my own--3 pairs of hands made lots of work much less work and much more pleasant. I actually feel like I didn't really do much more than spin in circles and delegate tasks. And, of course, I couldn't have done it without my lovely Thanksgiving Schedule Spreadsheet. ;-)
We stuck to the schedule pretty closely and sat down to eat only 30 minutes later than I anticipated. I call that good. The old recipes were characteristically fabulous and the new recipes were (somewhat surprisingly) all hits with most of us.
This is my refrigerator Wednesday night: arranged, rearranged, and crammed to the brim to accomodate my large water-bath canner with brining turkey inside.
The Food List and Preparation Schedule:
Pie Preparations (gotta work on the cook time and temperature for a deep dish fresh pumpkin pie).
New roll recipe, Sweet Potato Twists. These were beautiful and delicious. Many thanks to my mother-in-law for making them, as my hands were too dry and cracked to knead dough in a sanitary fashion.
The Table (My aunt sets a beautiful table, does she not? I need her around to help me use my china to its full potential.)
The Turkey, pre-carving. A new recipe this year produced by far the best result yet, and there wasn't anything wrong with the previous years. But THIS. . .well it was the best turkey I've ever had, I think. We'll be saving this recipe for next year. . .if I wait that long.
The Buffet. From left to right: Green Bean Casserole, Vegetable Casserole, Dressing, Sweet Potato-Cranberry Galette, Cranberry-Strawberry Jello Salad, Turkey, Butternut Squash and Cheese Pannade, Mashed Potatoes. Not pictured: Deviled Eggs, Crudites, Gravy, Rolls, Pumpkin Pie, Tennessee Whiskey Cake, Whipped Cream
All in all, I was tremendously pleased with the outcome. I'm ever so thankful that I wasn't on my own--3 pairs of hands made lots of work much less work and much more pleasant. I actually feel like I didn't really do much more than spin in circles and delegate tasks. And, of course, I couldn't have done it without my lovely Thanksgiving Schedule Spreadsheet. ;-)
11/24/2009
Thanksgiving with One Oven
Everyone is a little insane. I am well aware that my particular breed of insanity goes into overdrive in the holiday kitchen.
Growing up, we had holiday dinners at my grandparents' house--a half-mile from my house and a block from my cousins'. The nearness of our homes meant that we had 3 ovens (and any number of helping hands) at the feasting preparations' disposal. Thus, I am accustomed to a wide array of delectable dishes piled high, wide, and deep on the holiday table. And buffet. And extra table.
Now, when it's just the two of us for a holiday meal, I can control these habits and limit my preparations. But when additions come to table, my insanity kicks in and the food multiplies exponentially.
There are new recipes to try! There are old recipes that must not be forgotten! Everyone has to have his favorite thing! Or things! And we can't forget aesthetic appeal! Dishes of every color! And! And!
Hence, my Thanksgiving Schedule Spreadsheet, where oven time is meticulously mapped out, beginning at T-minus-6 hours with the turkey and proceeding through dressings and casseroles and rolls and pies (that mustn't be baked ahead, lest they cool), carefully arranged so that time-sensitive dishes will be fresh out of the oven, hardy faithfuls will be kept piping hot on the back burner (Thank goodness for an energy-inefficient vintage range that exudes heat from every orifice, and some places that aren't!), and desserts will tempt us with their still-baking aroma as we eat dinner.
I'm a little crazy. And it doesn't end there. Beneath the oven time columns, stove-top dishes are penciled in at their appropriate cooking times and, beneath that, preparation tasks are listed where they best fit. The way it's mapped out, one person could conceivably handle the whole grand banquet. Fortunately for me (and for Carolyn, whose needs aren't inked in), I won't be cooking alone.
Three chefs + one oven = A fabulous Thanksgiving spread. . .I hope!
Growing up, we had holiday dinners at my grandparents' house--a half-mile from my house and a block from my cousins'. The nearness of our homes meant that we had 3 ovens (and any number of helping hands) at the feasting preparations' disposal. Thus, I am accustomed to a wide array of delectable dishes piled high, wide, and deep on the holiday table. And buffet. And extra table.
Now, when it's just the two of us for a holiday meal, I can control these habits and limit my preparations. But when additions come to table, my insanity kicks in and the food multiplies exponentially.
There are new recipes to try! There are old recipes that must not be forgotten! Everyone has to have his favorite thing! Or things! And we can't forget aesthetic appeal! Dishes of every color! And! And!
Hence, my Thanksgiving Schedule Spreadsheet, where oven time is meticulously mapped out, beginning at T-minus-6 hours with the turkey and proceeding through dressings and casseroles and rolls and pies (that mustn't be baked ahead, lest they cool), carefully arranged so that time-sensitive dishes will be fresh out of the oven, hardy faithfuls will be kept piping hot on the back burner (Thank goodness for an energy-inefficient vintage range that exudes heat from every orifice, and some places that aren't!), and desserts will tempt us with their still-baking aroma as we eat dinner.
I'm a little crazy. And it doesn't end there. Beneath the oven time columns, stove-top dishes are penciled in at their appropriate cooking times and, beneath that, preparation tasks are listed where they best fit. The way it's mapped out, one person could conceivably handle the whole grand banquet. Fortunately for me (and for Carolyn, whose needs aren't inked in), I won't be cooking alone.
Three chefs + one oven = A fabulous Thanksgiving spread. . .I hope!
11/22/2009
The Big Blue Beast
As Thanksgiving is fast approaching, it was time to cook the Big Blue Beast. I did, while Carolyn looked on. This was my first time with a Blue Hubbard. It was interesting.
Can you tell? It bleeds yellow.
I did finally get it cut open, but it was rough--much rougher than the "normal" pumpkins I've done in years past or than the lighter-orange one (of a variety I can't remember) that I did earlier this year. The skin was tougher, and so was the flesh.
Scraping it out was still easy, though.
"Here, Mom. Let me bag that for you."
It was so big, I had to cut it further to fit it in the pan. I need to remember to pay attention to that when I pick my pumpkins--I switched to baking from steaming, because there's a lot less (hard) cutting to make the pumpkin fit in a baking pan than to make it fit in a pot on the stove. But if I still have to hack it smaller than halves. . .well, I prefer not. There's a fine line, when you're not paying per pound. I want the biggest pumpkin in a given price range, so I get the most for my money. But I should remember to get one sized and shaped such that half of it will fit in a pan I have.
After baking (400 degrees, 1 hour), it was decidedly green. Kevin says it looks like an alien slug.
After scraping the flesh out and pureeing it in the blender, I put it in strainers lined with cheesecloth. This is the first year I've done this; I don't know why it didn't occur to me before. Actually, though, this pumpkin had far less water in it than any I've used previously (note the blackened pan in the middle of the last picture). Usually, the pan is half-full of pumpkin juice after baking, but this one I added water to and it STILL dried up. Anyway, some liquid still drained out, which makes it more the consistency of canned pumpkin and easier to bake pies with.
I don't think I'll buy a Big Blue Beast again. It looks great on the porch, but I buy my pumpkins to cook, and it wasn't as convenient for that end. Hopefully I'll see the same varieties next year that I saw this year and can figure out which the pale orange one was--I loved how easy it was to cut and how vibrantly orange the baked flesh was.
Can you tell? It bleeds yellow.
I did finally get it cut open, but it was rough--much rougher than the "normal" pumpkins I've done in years past or than the lighter-orange one (of a variety I can't remember) that I did earlier this year. The skin was tougher, and so was the flesh.
Scraping it out was still easy, though.
"Here, Mom. Let me bag that for you."
It was so big, I had to cut it further to fit it in the pan. I need to remember to pay attention to that when I pick my pumpkins--I switched to baking from steaming, because there's a lot less (hard) cutting to make the pumpkin fit in a baking pan than to make it fit in a pot on the stove. But if I still have to hack it smaller than halves. . .well, I prefer not. There's a fine line, when you're not paying per pound. I want the biggest pumpkin in a given price range, so I get the most for my money. But I should remember to get one sized and shaped such that half of it will fit in a pan I have.
After baking (400 degrees, 1 hour), it was decidedly green. Kevin says it looks like an alien slug.
After scraping the flesh out and pureeing it in the blender, I put it in strainers lined with cheesecloth. This is the first year I've done this; I don't know why it didn't occur to me before. Actually, though, this pumpkin had far less water in it than any I've used previously (note the blackened pan in the middle of the last picture). Usually, the pan is half-full of pumpkin juice after baking, but this one I added water to and it STILL dried up. Anyway, some liquid still drained out, which makes it more the consistency of canned pumpkin and easier to bake pies with.
I don't think I'll buy a Big Blue Beast again. It looks great on the porch, but I buy my pumpkins to cook, and it wasn't as convenient for that end. Hopefully I'll see the same varieties next year that I saw this year and can figure out which the pale orange one was--I loved how easy it was to cut and how vibrantly orange the baked flesh was.
11/13/2009
An Object Lesson
Carolyn gives me a thousand little lessons a day. Today, I was watching her stack blocks. She's just learning how to stack them, and they immediately topple more often than not. They topple because she doesn't just set a block gently atop another. She places it dead-on center, but then she pushes down just as hard as she can. . .to make it stay, I presume. Usually, the release of all her little force is enough to make the tower wobble and fall down.
We do this. When we want something so bad, we often apply all our force to making it happen. . .only to push too hard and knock away all the underpinnings as well. If we could just trust God, who has built up the tower thus far, to gently lay the top block in place, our overbearing shove would not be necessary.
We do this. When we want something so bad, we often apply all our force to making it happen. . .only to push too hard and knock away all the underpinnings as well. If we could just trust God, who has built up the tower thus far, to gently lay the top block in place, our overbearing shove would not be necessary.
11/11/2009
Quote of the Day
The world wants good mothers. It can do without clever money-makers. . .and
Ruskin says: 'The best women are indeed the most difficult to know. They are recognized chiefly in the happiness of their husbands and the nobleness of their children; they are only to be divined, not discerned by the stranger, and sometimes seem almost helpless except in their homes.'quoted by a friend, from "The Little Kingdom of Home," copyright 1904
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