It struck me yesterday as I spent a low-key day with Silas and Eden, that spending time with them is very much like spending time with a sweet little senile aunt and uncle pair.
There is Silas carefully calculating things like, "I will put a stamp on this for one hour and fifteen minutes," or "I am not ready to go to bed. I want to play for 5 more minutes, no THREE more!!" -- proving again and again that despite his convictions, he has a poor grasp of time.
And then there's little Auntie who will even just hear me talking to someone in an animated way and will begin madly nodding with earnest "yes, yes"'s each time her head bows (they are deep nods). Little miss playing along.
Looking at them this way definitely lightens the mood. Even (or especially) when Eden is feeding dozens of flat rate priority envelopes through slats in the bench inside the post office, and Silas is fully lying on an empty shelf while I mail a package...
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Monday, November 02, 2009
Fall Soup: Yellow Split Pea
Inspired by Hollie Moyer's recent potato soup posting (and photo idea, since it turns out soup in a pot is difficult to photograph and make look appetizing -- I am still figuring out how to photograph food...)
Last Wednesday, my sister Kaia Joye and four of her friends from the Island (doesn't calling it "the Island" make Catalina sound mysterious and like LOST?) stopped over for dinner on their way to Joshua Tree. We piled into the living room, sitting on every available surface, and drank wine from jam jars, ate crusty bread, salad with crasins, pears and sunflower seeds, and bowls of fall soup. This was the first time I'd tried this recipes, and one thing I loved about the final product is how beautiful it is with flecks of red tomato, orange squash, and ribboned kale against the yellow.
Yellow Split Pea Soup with Autumn Squash and Kale
(from Fresh From the Farmers Market, by Janet Fletcher)
2 T o.oil
2-3 oz (I'd say 3-4) pancetta, minced (you can buy it diced in a container at Trader Joe's)
1 large onion, minced
4 cloves garlic, minced
2 c dried yellow split peas
1 fresh rosemary sprig, 4"long
4 c chicken broth, plus more for thinning later if needed
1/2 lb peeled hard-shelled squash such as Kabocha or Butternut, diced
1/2 lb plum tomatoes, peeled, seeded, diced
1/3 lb kale or green chard, ribs removed
Heat oil in large pot over moderate heat.
Add pancetta and saute until it renders some of its fat, about 3 min.
Add onion and garlic -- saute until soft, about 10 min.
Add split peas, rosemary, 4 c broth, 4 c water
Simmer, cover and adjust head to maintain simmer
Cook until peas completely soft, 45 min-1hr
Taste often and remove rosemary when flavor is strong enough (should be subtle)
Season soup with S&P
Stir in squash and tomatoes
Slice kale into ribbons and stir into soup
Cover and cook until squash and kale are tender, about 20 min.
Think with broth of needed.
(it will thicken considerably as it cools)
Last Wednesday, my sister Kaia Joye and four of her friends from the Island (doesn't calling it "the Island" make Catalina sound mysterious and like LOST?) stopped over for dinner on their way to Joshua Tree. We piled into the living room, sitting on every available surface, and drank wine from jam jars, ate crusty bread, salad with crasins, pears and sunflower seeds, and bowls of fall soup. This was the first time I'd tried this recipes, and one thing I loved about the final product is how beautiful it is with flecks of red tomato, orange squash, and ribboned kale against the yellow.
Yellow Split Pea Soup with Autumn Squash and Kale
(from Fresh From the Farmers Market, by Janet Fletcher)
2 T o.oil
2-3 oz (I'd say 3-4) pancetta, minced (you can buy it diced in a container at Trader Joe's)
1 large onion, minced
4 cloves garlic, minced
2 c dried yellow split peas
1 fresh rosemary sprig, 4"long
4 c chicken broth, plus more for thinning later if needed
1/2 lb peeled hard-shelled squash such as Kabocha or Butternut, diced
1/2 lb plum tomatoes, peeled, seeded, diced
1/3 lb kale or green chard, ribs removed
Heat oil in large pot over moderate heat.
Add pancetta and saute until it renders some of its fat, about 3 min.
Add onion and garlic -- saute until soft, about 10 min.
Add split peas, rosemary, 4 c broth, 4 c water
Simmer, cover and adjust head to maintain simmer
Cook until peas completely soft, 45 min-1hr
Taste often and remove rosemary when flavor is strong enough (should be subtle)
Season soup with S&P
Stir in squash and tomatoes
Slice kale into ribbons and stir into soup
Cover and cook until squash and kale are tender, about 20 min.
Think with broth of needed.
(it will thicken considerably as it cools)
Sunday, November 01, 2009
The Morning After
I moved through October with heightened senses -- sweeping stores for creepy decorations since even in the most unassuming places, there can be contorted, bloody, rotting-faced masks...
Halloween used to be my favorite. I could not begin to understand the people who forbade trick-or-treating or only took their kids to harvest festivals. How grossly over-protective.
But then I met a soft impressionable child with wide eyes and a leaping imagination whom I had to protect. And the world looked different. Experiencing horror on his face -- his first real fear -- because of a "decoration" in a store last year changed me and reminded me that images stick.
Last week, I tried to get to the YMCA with the kids over and over. But there was weather, a cough, a loss of motivation. We didn't go. At the end of the week, I finally went alone. In the entrance hung the most horrific decorations I have ever seen in a public space. They were unavoidable and larger than life. I couldn't even think how Silas would have responded (for days after).
the entrance of the Y:
right inside above the front desk:
Today the stores will be drained of witches, masks, fake blood, bones, rotting corpses and spiders, and will be prematurely filled with fake snow, elves, stockings, shiny balls and candy canes. This November morning I can feel my guard melting. Once again, Halloween is over.
Halloween used to be my favorite. I could not begin to understand the people who forbade trick-or-treating or only took their kids to harvest festivals. How grossly over-protective.
But then I met a soft impressionable child with wide eyes and a leaping imagination whom I had to protect. And the world looked different. Experiencing horror on his face -- his first real fear -- because of a "decoration" in a store last year changed me and reminded me that images stick.
Last week, I tried to get to the YMCA with the kids over and over. But there was weather, a cough, a loss of motivation. We didn't go. At the end of the week, I finally went alone. In the entrance hung the most horrific decorations I have ever seen in a public space. They were unavoidable and larger than life. I couldn't even think how Silas would have responded (for days after).
the entrance of the Y:
right inside above the front desk:
Today the stores will be drained of witches, masks, fake blood, bones, rotting corpses and spiders, and will be prematurely filled with fake snow, elves, stockings, shiny balls and candy canes. This November morning I can feel my guard melting. Once again, Halloween is over.
Sunday, October 25, 2009
What to do?
Our dilemma of the day: how to get the antibiotics INto Eden's body.
Yesterday she loved them.
Today she refuses to swallow them. Refuses. Fills her mouth and them lets the medicine dribble out. Or spits it.
I tried to hide it in orange juice. She didn't drink it.
I gave her a straw. She put her mouth on it but wouldn't suck.
We have 9 more days of antibiotics, 3 times a day ahead of us (or maybe only 8 days since at least two doses were spat about the kitchen). What do I do?
I'm at a loss. Any suggestions?
Yesterday she loved them.
Today she refuses to swallow them. Refuses. Fills her mouth and them lets the medicine dribble out. Or spits it.
I tried to hide it in orange juice. She didn't drink it.
I gave her a straw. She put her mouth on it but wouldn't suck.
We have 9 more days of antibiotics, 3 times a day ahead of us (or maybe only 8 days since at least two doses were spat about the kitchen). What do I do?
I'm at a loss. Any suggestions?
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Killer Bunny Follow Up
When driving around this morning, Silas asked, Why did that bunny bite Eden?...
Did the police come and take it right away?
Despite all of my explaining, he still was unclear about why the police wouldn't have come to help with traps galore.
Tonight we visited Beth's apartment where we met Georgie Fruit the cat AND Johnson the bunny. After staring for a minute, Eden walked over to the rabbit cage and stuck her left pointer finger (the bitten one) right in. She, at least, seems not to be remotely traumatized by last night's events.
This morning I did end up taking her to urgent care because her cuts looked redder -- which the doctor said was from the bacteria in the animal's mouth -- and she is taking antibiotics.
So, that's that for now (and hopefully ever).
Did the police come and take it right away?
Despite all of my explaining, he still was unclear about why the police wouldn't have come to help with traps galore.
Tonight we visited Beth's apartment where we met Georgie Fruit the cat AND Johnson the bunny. After staring for a minute, Eden walked over to the rabbit cage and stuck her left pointer finger (the bitten one) right in. She, at least, seems not to be remotely traumatized by last night's events.
This morning I did end up taking her to urgent care because her cuts looked redder -- which the doctor said was from the bacteria in the animal's mouth -- and she is taking antibiotics.
So, that's that for now (and hopefully ever).
Friday, October 23, 2009
Catching up from our 10 Days in DC
Our first day in DC, Silas and I went for a walk and gathered along the way. His finds made me realize that though we have Fall here in California and the leaves of the Liquid Amber Maples behind my house gradually (and thankfully) turn cranberry red, we do miss some of Fall treasures
and brilliance
We played at the pumpkin patch (my favorite where I used to go as a kid)
and spent some time with Ben after being apart for a week.
and brilliance
We played at the pumpkin patch (my favorite where I used to go as a kid)
and spent some time with Ben after being apart for a week.
One of my favorite moments was when Eden first saw the dollhouse in my parents' basement: she began chanting "hass hass" (house), and then immediately climbed in (and got stuck)!
An Eventful Night.........
This afternoon, Silas dressed up as Lightning McQueen and Eden as a puffy ladybug, and we headed to a Fall Carnival.
I was expecting a bean bag toss and mob of people, but instead the crowd was thin, and we were greeted by a Ferris wheel, moon bounces, candy apples, climbing walls, little carnival rides (and as you may know, I am particularly partial to fair-like events), and a petting zoo! Silas jumped and climbed; we ate ribs for dinner -- well, Eden and I ate ribs and Silas ate two bites of fried chicken, a pickle slice, cheetos, 3 jolly ranchers, and a tootsie roll -- and visited the animals.
The petting zoo was a tiny pen with friendly goats, an impossibly tiny black pig (I WISH I had a picture of him, actually, I wish I had him), bunnies, a couple of ducks, and chickens -- perfectly manageable. Eden was thrilled.
As we stood next to the fluffiest goat with our hands buried in his coat, I marveled at these animals who moved around the pen so calmly as tiny hands plunged toward them.
The bunnies, being bunnies, darted by here and there, but surprisingly paused to let us pat them. One even let Eden stroke its ears. I was taking this picture of Eden with the sweet bunny when Eden started SCREAMING.
Have you ever seen a bunny eating a carrot, the way it bites in a series of fast definitive chomps? (all the while wiggling its nose so it looks cute?) Well, this carrot was Eden's finger. She couldn't get it out of the rabbits mouth, and I couldn't move fast enough. When I finally (finally -- it was probably all of 2 seconds) pulled her finger out, there were 4 clean bites down her pointer finger and one between her pointer finger and thumb. She, of course, was hysterical. And I didn't know what to do. So I stood there, in the middle of the petting pen, holding my screaming ladybug, vaguely nodding at people who asked if an animal bit her, wanting to tell them to evacuate the pen and to put the rabbit down immediately.
Her hand was red and puffy. Ben was out of town. Silas was still in line for a balloon-filled moon bounce he'd been so patiently waiting for. Staff people were talking into walkie-talkies looking for first aid. And my new friend Alison was looking firmly into my face telling me it was OK.
I'm often amazed by what we can do -- what we do do -- when we have to. I am operating on a major sleep-deficit, which means that I feel like I could drool at any moment or burst into tears. All I wanted to do was to collapse in a heap with Eden -- who, every time she rediscovered her cuts, held up her hand, crying "BUNNY! BUNNY!" -- and sob my eyes out.
But instead, I went with first aid, I scrubbed little E's hand, I smiled at her and sang, I called my pediatrician, I decided to go to urgent care, I extracted Silas from the carnival (though he became hysterical because I wouldn't let him have a candy apple -- see tantrums), I walked all the way down the hill and through the crowds carrying heavy Eden to our car, I somehow LOST my phone on the way, I retraced my steps praying, I somehow FOUND my phone by a curb!, I buckled everyone in, I came home, I re-scrubbed Eden's hand, I decided not to go to urgent care, I put Eden to bed, I read Silas books, I brushed his teeth and tucked him into bed. I made it.
I often feel like a small miracle of life is that I make it through a day. Despite myself. Despite so many things. Despite fumbling. Despite being impatient. Despite Eden's feeding her finger to a rabbit. We make it. And then we sleep. And then we wake to a new morning.
I was expecting a bean bag toss and mob of people, but instead the crowd was thin, and we were greeted by a Ferris wheel, moon bounces, candy apples, climbing walls, little carnival rides (and as you may know, I am particularly partial to fair-like events), and a petting zoo! Silas jumped and climbed; we ate ribs for dinner -- well, Eden and I ate ribs and Silas ate two bites of fried chicken, a pickle slice, cheetos, 3 jolly ranchers, and a tootsie roll -- and visited the animals.
The petting zoo was a tiny pen with friendly goats, an impossibly tiny black pig (I WISH I had a picture of him, actually, I wish I had him), bunnies, a couple of ducks, and chickens -- perfectly manageable. Eden was thrilled.
As we stood next to the fluffiest goat with our hands buried in his coat, I marveled at these animals who moved around the pen so calmly as tiny hands plunged toward them.
The bunnies, being bunnies, darted by here and there, but surprisingly paused to let us pat them. One even let Eden stroke its ears. I was taking this picture of Eden with the sweet bunny when Eden started SCREAMING. 
Have you ever seen a bunny eating a carrot, the way it bites in a series of fast definitive chomps? (all the while wiggling its nose so it looks cute?) Well, this carrot was Eden's finger. She couldn't get it out of the rabbits mouth, and I couldn't move fast enough. When I finally (finally -- it was probably all of 2 seconds) pulled her finger out, there were 4 clean bites down her pointer finger and one between her pointer finger and thumb. She, of course, was hysterical. And I didn't know what to do. So I stood there, in the middle of the petting pen, holding my screaming ladybug, vaguely nodding at people who asked if an animal bit her, wanting to tell them to evacuate the pen and to put the rabbit down immediately.Her hand was red and puffy. Ben was out of town. Silas was still in line for a balloon-filled moon bounce he'd been so patiently waiting for. Staff people were talking into walkie-talkies looking for first aid. And my new friend Alison was looking firmly into my face telling me it was OK.
I'm often amazed by what we can do -- what we do do -- when we have to. I am operating on a major sleep-deficit, which means that I feel like I could drool at any moment or burst into tears. All I wanted to do was to collapse in a heap with Eden -- who, every time she rediscovered her cuts, held up her hand, crying "BUNNY! BUNNY!" -- and sob my eyes out.
But instead, I went with first aid, I scrubbed little E's hand, I smiled at her and sang, I called my pediatrician, I decided to go to urgent care, I extracted Silas from the carnival (though he became hysterical because I wouldn't let him have a candy apple -- see tantrums), I walked all the way down the hill and through the crowds carrying heavy Eden to our car, I somehow LOST my phone on the way, I retraced my steps praying, I somehow FOUND my phone by a curb!, I buckled everyone in, I came home, I re-scrubbed Eden's hand, I decided not to go to urgent care, I put Eden to bed, I read Silas books, I brushed his teeth and tucked him into bed. I made it.
I often feel like a small miracle of life is that I make it through a day. Despite myself. Despite so many things. Despite fumbling. Despite being impatient. Despite Eden's feeding her finger to a rabbit. We make it. And then we sleep. And then we wake to a new morning.
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