Granola

I can't really imagine making dinner again any time soon -- it's been a while -- but baking still appeals. I was reading katie did the other day and saw her recipe for granola; I've never made granola so I gave it a try. Here's the recipe (with a few variations):

Granola

-in a big bowl combine:
5 c oats
1 c wheat germ
1 c whole wheat flour (more flour makes the granola softer)
1 c coconut
2 c nuts (I am not a big fan of seeds in my granola, so I used a mixture of chopped pecans, sliced almonds, and pine nuts -- pistachios would also be great -- but if you love seeds, add them here)

-in a separate bowl, mix
2 T vanilla
1/4 c water
1 c honey (you could definitely use 1 1/2-2 cups for sweeter -- or use part honey and part maple syrup)
1/2 c oil (or a mixture of oil and butter)

-mix wet and dry together
-spread on cookie sheets (I used 3, you could probably get away with 2)
-bake at 250 for ~ 2 hours (mine came out very crunchy, so I wonder what it would be like to -cook it for 1 1/2 hrs or 1 hr 45 min)
-after the first 40 minutes, stir granola ever 15 min or so
-either at the end of baking or just before it comes out, add dried fruit --- I used diced apricots and crasins
-cool completely
-store in an airtight container either in the fridge or pantry.
delicious with milk, yogurt, to snack on -- yum.

Undivided

My mom flew out to California to stay with Silas and Eden (and Ben) for 4 nights while I was in Florida. Then she flew alone to Washington with them to stay there for a couple of days before I met them.

The three days they were at our house, it poured -- the kind of rain we never have in southern California (and the kind of indoor entrapment that Silas and Eden are strangers to). And yet, Silas and Eden (and even my mom) were as happy as clams. There were *no* meltdowns, no tantrums, and hardly any tears at all.

My mom and I have talked about this a bit -- how were those 3 days so magical and smooth? (No one even missed me, which perhaps was the greatest gift of all). After thinking about it, my mom realized that during her stay, they hardly left the house, she didn't have "life" to keep up with, she didn't have to talk on the phone, write emails, do errands etc.-- she was completely present.

And then I came back. Almost instantly, my attention was divided -- loving their little britches off and playing catch up from a week away. But that's the way it goes, isn't it? We are divided. We do have to call people back and maintain relationships. We have to take the recycling, buy paper towels and food, drop off prescriptions, go to the doctor, return emails, read at least a tiny bit of news, collect ourselves, drag the kids places they don't want to go, cook things -- (and that doesn't include doing anything for ourselves).

So as I get ready to head back home (I am still in DC), I wonder how I can be both present to Eden and Silas in meaningful ways and also maintain life. How do I use time well, carve out space for both? Because I find when I'm not purposeful, those two slur together, and I seem to do neither well...

on the subject of germs and sanitation

As I mentioned weeks ago, when we arrived in DC for Christmas (dec 21st) there were 18 inches of snow on the ground! It hasn't snowed, really, since then. A little sleet here and there. A dusting one morning. But no *snow*, nothing sled-worthy or substantive enough to pile.

Today, January 24th, I was walking through a parking lot with Silas, Eden and my mom. On the median between rows of cars, was a small blackish-grey pile of remaining parking lot snow. Silas, ahead of me, immediately started kicking it so icy sludge scattered and flew. Eden squirmed to get down: "touch it touch it touch it" -- a fair request since we never see ice on the ground. After she leaned down and put her fingers on it, I carried her to the car.

"Was that cold, Eden?"
"crunch crunch crunch Yesh."
"Are you EATING it?!"
"crunch Yes. crunch crunch I eat it."

Reunion

Last night I saw Eden and Silas after 6 days and nights away. Our reconnection was all sweetness and snuggles. Somehow in my brief time away, I completely forgot that Eden can talk. I was expecting to see Silas and a sweet baby-ish girl. Quite a surprise when I climbed into the car to her high little voice saying, "Mommy! Mommy airport-I go airport-do it! do it!- go airport!-Pops driving-BB Mommy- Mommy come back -Eden get out-I get out-go airport-hold you mommy-" How could I possibly have forgotten her language?

Last night I had a dream that I left Eden in the McDonald's parking lot on a busy road near my parents' house. Just as I was slamming the car in reverse to go back to her, I saw her stepping into traffic. So I flew out of the car and ran to her just as she fell and skinned her knee, a man (nice one) picked her up and a huge dog ran toward her. Do you think my subconscious doubts my ability to re-acclimate to the mother role? It would seem so.

And today I find that I'm somewhat prophetic as I fell myself fumble for my footing. Silas is beginning to unearth swallowed anger at my leaving (including a tantrum in the corner of Cactus Cantina today involving fists in the air and his whole body "dancing" with frustration -- once again, I'm thinking of Brett and Germain). So we are now of to have some "feshul time" at the zoo, just the two of us.

Florida

I always thought of Florida as a state with too much peach and turquoise, with plastic palm trees and fake flowers, with bright white keds (during keds off-years), tropical flora meets middle American vibe, lots of walkers and white hair. It was the one coastal state (both east and west) I avoided when applying for teaching jobs before my California move.

But it's funny the connections we make, or rather, connections we realize. Both of my parents grew up here -- my mother to leave it (though to return years later to give and give), and my father to bask in his memories of it. I visited as a child and an adult; I said goodbye to two grandmothers here. It's no wonder, really, that the flat roads should strike such a chord in me, but I never noticed the place climb inside me until after it settled in.

I'm sitting in the Ft. Lauderdale airport right now waiting to fly to DC. I've been here nearly a week at a poetry festival, and before I came, as I sifted through my poems deciding what to bring, I found Florida's roots in my writing again and again. Here there are threads of my family, quiet little stories woven into street names and stucco. Here there are the sounds of Florida's south, a flatter lilt than Georgia's, the shapes of my grandmother's words.

Even Ben spent years growing up here, too. This trip, I collected shells from the beach where he used to boogie board, where the purple flag waved when the jelly fish came. And I went to a mall where he played arcade games and sucked down cups of orange julius.

So, as I wait for my plane, I'm reminded of how good it is to come to these places of people we love, even when they are Florida, especially when they are Florida, when they make us look again, and again, and a little closer again, until we finally start to see.

A note about Cocktails (St. Germain)

When I was in DC recently, Ben and I had drinks on the roof deck of the new W Hotel (in the old Hotel Washington building). Though the W, itself, leaves a little something to be desired in its use of that fantastic old building, the view from the roof bar is exceptional. And, it turns out, so is one of their cocktails.

I often hem and haw when ordering a drink; I don't have a go-to. At times a gin and tonic hits the spot, at times a Stella, occasionally scotch on the rocks, but more often than not, nothing sounds good.

Since incorporating Champagne Thursdays into my life, though, champagne more often than not is my order -- clean, bubbly, dry -- mmmmmmmm. My family loves to make Kir Royales, but I tend to be a purist.

Or at least I tended to be, until I discovered St. Germain liquer at the W that night. St Germain is an elderflower liquer -- softly sweet and floral, without a dominant bouquet like rose or violet. St. Germain is quiet and just right. To make a St. Germain cocktail:

St. Germain Cocktail:
2 parts champagne
2 parts soda
1 1/2 parts St Germain
a twist of lemon/lemon rind

Since discovering this glorious drink, I have begun to see St. Germain everywhere. The other night, down at A Restaurant (yes, my favorite -- if you want the best burger of your life on a soft brioche bun, go there, or the most fantastic butterscotch pudding -- more about that soon), I ordered a drink called a Salty Pear (and then went back the next night and ordered it again).

Salty Pear Martini:
Grey Goose Pear
St. Germain
Sweet and Sour (homemade)
with a salted rim

I don't know proportions for this yet, so we will have to play with it.

Buy yourself a lovely fluted bottle of St. Germain, and see what you think.

Reflection

Tuesday

Pick up shirts from dry cleaners, call
the frame store, call Susan back, ask
Debbi about Connor, email Thorburns
about dinner next Thursday, buy
return tickets from New York --
when the earth shook, the buildings fell

Take the kids to music class, to the park
before nap, pick up the living room,
look up St. Germain cocktail recipe,
buy diapers online, a new bathing suit,
a birthday present for Charlie's 4th -
when the earth shook, thousands fell

Pick up taco Tuesday for lunch, make
a deposit at the bank, buy Starbucks card
for mornings' cappuccinos and banana
bran muffins, renew Costco membership,
get gas, drive through car wash--
tens of thousands fell; thousands, waiting

Rotisserie chicken, french bread, baby
greens, milk, peanut butter, figs, stamps.
Revise CV and send it to Ben to proof,
return sweaters, mail thank you notes,
drop off clothes at goodwill, activate cell --
Lord have mercy; let us hear.