November is not the hell-a crush of October but it's not much less of a vise-grip type life. I remember thinking in September, my, this semester is going to be a cinch. And then October. November actually has as much going on but it's less of a surprise than October. Also. November has my birthday and Thanksgiving which are great reliefs, no?
Well, my birthday wasn't exactly a relief. Since I was pregnant last birthday, I decided to do this one up. 5 days of birthday beginning with Pinot noir tasting on Wednesday, happy Veterans Day mellow birthday day Thursday, Friday friends over for polpettes and orzo soup (they brought me Gerber daisies. I love gerber daisies) birthday, Saturday babysitter birthday, and Sunday, more friends for spanikopita, tatizki, tabouleh, falafel birthday. Much good birthday. Nice talking on the phone with my mom and mother-in-law, sister-in-law and cousin. Five days of happy birthday from Z and a lot of "but it's my birthday" voice to Erik. He survived all five of the days.
He also bought us a couch for my birthday (and Christmas and my Christmas present to him). We shopped around thinking we'd never buy one but then there was this perfect sectional with leather on the outside to keep the cat from scratching it to death and microfiber on the cushions so it's soft and warm.
There was no chance it would fit, Erik said. And I said, it will if we keep the sections apart until we move the cable to the other side of the room.
The couch came today. At first, we just shook our heads. Even the small half looked like it had swallowed the room. The bigger half? Well, we could keep in in the kitchen where it could serve as an island/flotilla/spanikopita-making rest spot.
But it did fit, sections apart. And then Erik got highly excited about his ability to restring the cable until someone official came and snaked it behind the walls for more elegant effect.
We moved the TV. We put the sections together. The couch fits. We haven't moved off it all day.
Well, that's not entirely true since I have still November to deal with which involves finding a new day care person for Max, hosting a second guest writer in as many weeks, responding to some seriously great essays in some newly fun ways for me, and making appointments with the center for biodesign in Phoenix. Also, AWP deciding and money-getting (I'll go if I get funding from the college), and furious grant-writing and planning for Thanksgiving and general undergrad advising and students who need advising and letters of recommendation and extra love because it's November and I'm happy to give it because they are such the loveliest of students.
Tomorrow's guest writer will be talking about research in personal essays which will be particularly helpful for me since most of my research is internet research that stands distinctly opposed to my personal essay writing but since I'm on my way to visit the biodesign folks, I had better learn this word "incorporate" instead of big stony text blocks that read, "research here!"
I had a food thing to mention. What was it? Spanikopita? I did indeed make triangles. Again, I thought, there's no way that whatever Tyler Florence is saying about "fold like a flag" makes any sense, but I folded and it did. And I made chicken stock using just drumsticks--that was good and cheap at $2.38 for 4 drumsticks (plus, I saved a drumstick for Zoe's lunch making me a frugal cook and a good mom.) But I can't think of any fancy cooking moments. Except the polpettes and orzo which I made twice in a week. With homemade chicken broth.
So today was great thanks to the couch configuration. Also, the Huff Post. Kind words from many folks made me so happy. Also, nice words about an essay from the book of food and Mormons and fertility which is very good news. Also, nice words about the whole book which just makes November so much better than October.
Oh, on the note of babies--kids were sick and so was I which was a drag (worst cold ever. Sleeping on one side, turning over, sleeping on the other, hoping I could breathe through that nostril). But Zoe calls Max sweetheart because he's sweet and he has a heart and Max walks like some sort of crab, three-legged dude with his left leg sticking out, propelling him fast along.
Oh and Zoe and I are writing a book and I asked her if it was OK if I worked some while she was at school since at this rate the book would be done when she was 23, and she said sure, as long as I mentioned it was "illustrated by Zoe." I promised.
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Sunday, November 07, 2010
Conferences and Breathers
I really wasn't going to go. It was so far. A 2 hour drive, 3 hour flight, another 2 hour drive. Three nights away. Four whole days. It wasn't really worry about the kids that made me want to stay home. I knew they'd be fine with Erik and, since his mom came down to help, that no one would really notice my absence. It was a kind of laziness and a kind of tiredness of the writing business. And I would miss my people so much. I knew they'd be fine without me but not so much vise versa. Plus pumping. For four days. Ick.
But I made myself get up at 4:00 a.m. and drive in the dark down the mountain, looking out for elk and training my eye on the white line on the road. Once, the white line disappeared. I almost drove off the road. I hit traffic. I didn't care. If I missed my flight, I'd turn around and come back. But the traffic was due to an accident and abated pretty quickly.
Conferences are good for several things--especially this one. A chance to read your theories about creative nonfiction, a chance to hear others read theirs. Alison Bechdel, one of my heroes, spoke. I got to act like a grown-up or, rather, an adolescent, and go to too many bars and stay up past midnight (I know! Past midnight!). I saw people who I miss all the time and have deepened friendships that were slight before my conference going. I made new friends. I represented, as I said on Facebook, the crazy woman who has a baby and still goes to conferences. Not many folks at the just-had-a-baby-stage went. There were young-uns there, just out of grad school. It may be insane to travel while pumping and leave your ten month baby at home but it's also a choice you can make and survive, I wanted to tell them. Plus, they're a good audience to complain to about the 4 days of pumping. They've lived in Iowa. They've been to the state fair. They've seen the dairy contraptions attached to the udders of cows. They understand my pain. So did Margot. Thanks Margot! I want to say publicly, for hanging out with me and for listening me to also complain about the pumping. It's also good to go for the new ideas and new projects and general sense that at least 400 people in the world care about nonfiction and of those 400, at least 6 wanted to read again the paper I'd delivered and want a copy of their own. A little positive encouragement goes a long way these days.
And I admit. It's good to take a break. I didn't know it was a break. It was work in its own way. But, when you get home and you have to feed the people and there are no servers and very few excuses to go to lunch. I swear, if one didn't have to feed the children, they would be nothing but a breeze but they like so much food. Dinner, breakfast, lunch. And I like food too so then I cook for me and for Z and for Max, similar foods but delivered differently and by the time I'm done the kitchen is undone, I think, hmm, airplanes don't suck entirely.
But the way Max leaped out of his grandma's arms and tried to fling himself across the room at me and the way Zoe ran over to me to give me her notes that she'd been writing each day I was gone, I remember why I may well never go to a conference again.
But I made myself get up at 4:00 a.m. and drive in the dark down the mountain, looking out for elk and training my eye on the white line on the road. Once, the white line disappeared. I almost drove off the road. I hit traffic. I didn't care. If I missed my flight, I'd turn around and come back. But the traffic was due to an accident and abated pretty quickly.
Conferences are good for several things--especially this one. A chance to read your theories about creative nonfiction, a chance to hear others read theirs. Alison Bechdel, one of my heroes, spoke. I got to act like a grown-up or, rather, an adolescent, and go to too many bars and stay up past midnight (I know! Past midnight!). I saw people who I miss all the time and have deepened friendships that were slight before my conference going. I made new friends. I represented, as I said on Facebook, the crazy woman who has a baby and still goes to conferences. Not many folks at the just-had-a-baby-stage went. There were young-uns there, just out of grad school. It may be insane to travel while pumping and leave your ten month baby at home but it's also a choice you can make and survive, I wanted to tell them. Plus, they're a good audience to complain to about the 4 days of pumping. They've lived in Iowa. They've been to the state fair. They've seen the dairy contraptions attached to the udders of cows. They understand my pain. So did Margot. Thanks Margot! I want to say publicly, for hanging out with me and for listening me to also complain about the pumping. It's also good to go for the new ideas and new projects and general sense that at least 400 people in the world care about nonfiction and of those 400, at least 6 wanted to read again the paper I'd delivered and want a copy of their own. A little positive encouragement goes a long way these days.
And I admit. It's good to take a break. I didn't know it was a break. It was work in its own way. But, when you get home and you have to feed the people and there are no servers and very few excuses to go to lunch. I swear, if one didn't have to feed the children, they would be nothing but a breeze but they like so much food. Dinner, breakfast, lunch. And I like food too so then I cook for me and for Z and for Max, similar foods but delivered differently and by the time I'm done the kitchen is undone, I think, hmm, airplanes don't suck entirely.
But the way Max leaped out of his grandma's arms and tried to fling himself across the room at me and the way Zoe ran over to me to give me her notes that she'd been writing each day I was gone, I remember why I may well never go to a conference again.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Rough Week
It's been a rough week around here. Rejections all around. Plus some additional rejection that I wasn't even looking for. I mean, I go out of my way to get rejected for the most part but sometimes, rejection seeks me out. And bureaucracy. I had some. I wanted to apply for a grant because I like rejection but it turns out the university would like to protect me from myself and prevent that from happening by inventing and installing a device called grants and contracts which makes sure absolutely nothing can happen--even rejection--which is usually so easy to come by.
But it's amazing how resilient one can be. Yes. I will pat myself and the we's in my house for our resilience. And then I will say that kids are a good source of resilience. A) Even when they reject you, you can roll your eyes and tickle them and then you are quickly returned into most-loved status and b) they want so much (not rejection) that it's hard to get mired in your own morass.
Mas is curious. Possibly dangerously so. He likes to look under the stairs, crawl to the middle stair, fling himself off the stair onto the tile because he wonders what that might feel like. That we told him it wouldn't feel good is not so interesting to him. The humans yammer. The tiny bits of Starburst wrapper on the floor speak to him in a language he understands. Mostly--eat me. You can't hold him without him trying to crawl over your shoulder to see what everyone else is doing, including himself in the mirror or how, if you're holding him while you pee, he might propel himself into the sink to see exactly how the drain might work. Perhaps best by tonguing it, he thinks. The computer is good for typing but even better for pulling the keys off the keyboard and the pencil is good for drawing on the floor and stabbing yourself in the eye and if you're not a curious creature, however will you figure out that eye stabbing and floor drawing are equally interesting although perhaps one is more fun than the other.
So the week sucked enough that I sang Paul Simon's American Tune without irony. Also, Bob Dylan's Hard Rain although I don't know all the words. Tonight, I'm resilient enough, I think, that I can sing Frog went a Courtin to Zoe although only after we read Wigger--William Goldman's kid-story about parents who die in a car crash and Susanna holds it all together until a robber steals her blanket (Wigger). Then she cries. Then she's told to stop crying so she starts to flood. On the inside. But in the end, the undertaker adopts her which means it's a happy story, similar to this one.
Thursday, October 14, 2010
The Trouble
I thought I'd have several hours to work on revisions. My only certain obligations were to take Max to day care and work in the advising center for two hours. But what actually happened between 7 a.m. and 5 p.m. is what happens every day. First of course are the emails. The Huffington Post. The Facebook promotion. That takes an hour. Zoe wants hot lunch, thank goodness, but she also wants me to help her pick out clothes that are not too hot and not too cold. Max loves mornings and likes to two fist eat cheerios in his high chair and then, with those same two fists, pound the tray full of Cheerios until the Cheerios bounce off onto the floor. This leads to some, although not much, cleaning up of Cheerios. Then we go for a run which takes fourteen minutes to find the dog collar for, my shoes for, my sunglasses. Oh wait. My sunglasses are broken. Blind running into the sun.
Then what happens? Max goes to Taysha's at 11:30. If we get back from our run at 9:45, there's little time to sit down and write. Max needs to breastfeed. He would also like to type. He is not a horrible typist but he does have a bad habit of pulling off the keys from the keyboard which is contraindicated for future typing. He falls down one stair which requires much soothing and then he tries to pull the breastpump onto his head which requires much rethinking of cord-electronic arrangements. There is some kind of hurried cleaning up of bowls and electronics and other things that shouldn't be on the floor but are. Then more emergency emailing. Then emergency saving Max from certain doom. Then picking Max up because he does not like to be put down for more than 10 minute intervals (but those 10 minute intervals. They are productive ones! But not so good for sustained thinking about revisions). Taking a shower, getting dressed. How can these things take so long? There must be something slowing me down. Perhaps it's the 10 minute interval baby. Perhaps it's email. Perhaps it's the new eyeshadow I bought. Either way, I feel nearly Hollywoodian in how long it takes me to get ready these days.
Lunch. I just heat up stew. And yet that takes a good 20 minutes to heat and eat too. Max likes broth. Both time-consuming and messy. And yet, I have time to wonder if a baby is born and his mother dies/goes missing, could the baby survive on beef/chicken broth. I think so.
I put Max in the jumper thing and sit on the floor with the laptop to type. This totally gives me 20 full minutes of revising. Then. Finish getting ready (It's been an hour since I started). Get Max dressed (somewhat quicker but not entirely).
Then there's the driving. Or even getting to the driving. Max's everything needs to go into the diaper bag. I have things to remember (what things? I've forgotten by now). And then the car seat transfer and the finding of keys and the sunglasses. Oh wait. No sunglasses.
It only takes 20 minutes to take Max over to Taysha's. But it's sad and hard so that adds minutes and relativity that make it seem much longer than that. The drive to school. Longer than it needs to be.
Office hours are nonstop. I have students from my grad class, from classes last semester, from classes two years ago, from another advisor who gave incomplete advice, from administrative assistants, and from head-poker-inners just saying hi.
By the time I get home to work, it is 2:00. The kids will be home at 3:40. That gives me 1 and a half ish hours.
And then I remember I have to pump.
And eat dried apricots and almonds.
And check my email.
And Facebook.
Still, I get30 pages of revision done. I have 50 more to go today and tomorrow. Deadline. Friday at 5:00.
But this next section is chunky and problematic and won't go as fast as yesterday. And today I teach. And apparently blog.
In comparison to today, yesterday is beginning to look in retrospect like the freedom day it at first seemed like it was going to be and then wasn't really.
Off to prep a lesson on sonnets. And to sneak a page or two of revision in before I eat lunch.
Perhaps it's the eating that's slowing me down. But like all things these days that are slowing me down and keeping me from, I like them quite a bit. So really, I'm not complaining.
Then what happens? Max goes to Taysha's at 11:30. If we get back from our run at 9:45, there's little time to sit down and write. Max needs to breastfeed. He would also like to type. He is not a horrible typist but he does have a bad habit of pulling off the keys from the keyboard which is contraindicated for future typing. He falls down one stair which requires much soothing and then he tries to pull the breastpump onto his head which requires much rethinking of cord-electronic arrangements. There is some kind of hurried cleaning up of bowls and electronics and other things that shouldn't be on the floor but are. Then more emergency emailing. Then emergency saving Max from certain doom. Then picking Max up because he does not like to be put down for more than 10 minute intervals (but those 10 minute intervals. They are productive ones! But not so good for sustained thinking about revisions). Taking a shower, getting dressed. How can these things take so long? There must be something slowing me down. Perhaps it's the 10 minute interval baby. Perhaps it's email. Perhaps it's the new eyeshadow I bought. Either way, I feel nearly Hollywoodian in how long it takes me to get ready these days.
Lunch. I just heat up stew. And yet that takes a good 20 minutes to heat and eat too. Max likes broth. Both time-consuming and messy. And yet, I have time to wonder if a baby is born and his mother dies/goes missing, could the baby survive on beef/chicken broth. I think so.
I put Max in the jumper thing and sit on the floor with the laptop to type. This totally gives me 20 full minutes of revising. Then. Finish getting ready (It's been an hour since I started). Get Max dressed (somewhat quicker but not entirely).
Then there's the driving. Or even getting to the driving. Max's everything needs to go into the diaper bag. I have things to remember (what things? I've forgotten by now). And then the car seat transfer and the finding of keys and the sunglasses. Oh wait. No sunglasses.
It only takes 20 minutes to take Max over to Taysha's. But it's sad and hard so that adds minutes and relativity that make it seem much longer than that. The drive to school. Longer than it needs to be.
Office hours are nonstop. I have students from my grad class, from classes last semester, from classes two years ago, from another advisor who gave incomplete advice, from administrative assistants, and from head-poker-inners just saying hi.
By the time I get home to work, it is 2:00. The kids will be home at 3:40. That gives me 1 and a half ish hours.
And then I remember I have to pump.
And eat dried apricots and almonds.
And check my email.
And Facebook.
Still, I get30 pages of revision done. I have 50 more to go today and tomorrow. Deadline. Friday at 5:00.
But this next section is chunky and problematic and won't go as fast as yesterday. And today I teach. And apparently blog.
In comparison to today, yesterday is beginning to look in retrospect like the freedom day it at first seemed like it was going to be and then wasn't really.
Off to prep a lesson on sonnets. And to sneak a page or two of revision in before I eat lunch.
Perhaps it's the eating that's slowing me down. But like all things these days that are slowing me down and keeping me from, I like them quite a bit. So really, I'm not complaining.
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Kids, parties, practicality
I don't know why I felt compelled to do it. Mostly, I was afraid that the weekend would go by un-weekended. I would go back to work on Monday thinking, wow, I did a lot of laundry this weekend. Erik left with his parents to hike down the Grand Canyon on Friday. I probably then was suffering from a small case of hutzpah. Something like, not only can I watch the kids by myself for three days but I can entertain as well.
So I invited some people over.
I started small at first. My good friend Erica. She knows the kids. She understands I may disappear to put Max to sleep or might have six dog hairs in the guacamole. She has dogs too.
But then I got bold and invited three more people--one a new lecturer, another who was hired at the same time I was, and a new grad student who has kids. I didn't mention kids in the email. I figured we'd work that out later.
Of course, by Saturday morning I regretted it. Max had woken up every hour and a half the night before. While I was talking to my mom, he was trying to get my attention by screaming ever so gently in my ear. How would I talk to other people if I couldn't hear over Max? How would I cook dinner if I couldn't put him down?
Fortunately, the woman who runs the day care where we may put Max called. I had asked her to watch Max for a couple hours so she could get to know him. She said she could. Sweet. Then, Zoe's best friend's mom called to see if she could go to the park. I would miss Zoe's fine mopping skills as I tried to do Saturday housecleaning but I thought perhaps Zoe shouldn't have to focus on the party all day long. Especially since the woman with the kids hadn't responded to my email yet. Zoe may have no kids to play with later.
She went to the park. Max played while I cleaned. I picked Z up and we went to the tiny cart store (New Frontiers, where they have/had tiny carts for kids). We bought fish for the tacos and gingersnaps for dessert and salad bar for lunch.
After, we took Max over to the day care lady's. I'm glad we went. I'd had a little (lot) of trepidation about putting there. Not so much there as anywhere. But here's the deal--they do a lot of fun stuff--Kindermusik, gymnastics, sign language--that's not exactly appropriate for Max's age group but so much more fun I imagine than staying home watching me type. I felt extra ridiculous taking him there on a Saturday afternoon for no real reason. But once I got there and he launched into her arms, I knew it had been a good idea. Not only would I get ready for the party but I would stop freaking out about whether or not this woman would be good to Max.
Z and I ran home. Z swept the porch, I finished vacuuming. I cut up onions for the chipotle sour cream and cabbage for the tacos. By 4:30 when Max got home, we were all relaxed and ready for the people. We watched a half hour of Househunters. That's how ready we were.
Erica showed up first. Thank god. She fed Max hummus while I made guacamole. Zoe's friend Dain, her 15 month old brother and her mom came by. Good. Kids. The woman with the other kids had called earlier. She was coming. Could her husband come too? I said, there will be only other women there but sure why not?
Everyone was here by 5:45. The guacamole was gone by 5;50. I cooked the fish, put out the sour cream, cheese and cabbage and threw some forks on the counter and called it dinner. I couldn't eat right then because Max was melting down a little. But I took him to lie down and fed him. He returned happy. I ate my tacos and then more fish with sour cream. I don't know if the food was delicious but everyone seemed to eat, even the kids.
The adults went into the living room and the kids watched a movie. There was more chaos than usual--kids running back and forth to tell us about the movie, to freak out about the dog, to wonder where the one piece was to the Lego set, but I think the chaos was good. Without a little chaos, how would I have even known I had a weekend?
Today, a little less chaos. We're heading to the farmer's market and then I'm taking the stroller and the bike to the park to see how far this one path goes.
So I invited some people over.
I started small at first. My good friend Erica. She knows the kids. She understands I may disappear to put Max to sleep or might have six dog hairs in the guacamole. She has dogs too.
But then I got bold and invited three more people--one a new lecturer, another who was hired at the same time I was, and a new grad student who has kids. I didn't mention kids in the email. I figured we'd work that out later.
Of course, by Saturday morning I regretted it. Max had woken up every hour and a half the night before. While I was talking to my mom, he was trying to get my attention by screaming ever so gently in my ear. How would I talk to other people if I couldn't hear over Max? How would I cook dinner if I couldn't put him down?
Fortunately, the woman who runs the day care where we may put Max called. I had asked her to watch Max for a couple hours so she could get to know him. She said she could. Sweet. Then, Zoe's best friend's mom called to see if she could go to the park. I would miss Zoe's fine mopping skills as I tried to do Saturday housecleaning but I thought perhaps Zoe shouldn't have to focus on the party all day long. Especially since the woman with the kids hadn't responded to my email yet. Zoe may have no kids to play with later.
She went to the park. Max played while I cleaned. I picked Z up and we went to the tiny cart store (New Frontiers, where they have/had tiny carts for kids). We bought fish for the tacos and gingersnaps for dessert and salad bar for lunch.
After, we took Max over to the day care lady's. I'm glad we went. I'd had a little (lot) of trepidation about putting there. Not so much there as anywhere. But here's the deal--they do a lot of fun stuff--Kindermusik, gymnastics, sign language--that's not exactly appropriate for Max's age group but so much more fun I imagine than staying home watching me type. I felt extra ridiculous taking him there on a Saturday afternoon for no real reason. But once I got there and he launched into her arms, I knew it had been a good idea. Not only would I get ready for the party but I would stop freaking out about whether or not this woman would be good to Max.
Z and I ran home. Z swept the porch, I finished vacuuming. I cut up onions for the chipotle sour cream and cabbage for the tacos. By 4:30 when Max got home, we were all relaxed and ready for the people. We watched a half hour of Househunters. That's how ready we were.
Erica showed up first. Thank god. She fed Max hummus while I made guacamole. Zoe's friend Dain, her 15 month old brother and her mom came by. Good. Kids. The woman with the other kids had called earlier. She was coming. Could her husband come too? I said, there will be only other women there but sure why not?
Everyone was here by 5:45. The guacamole was gone by 5;50. I cooked the fish, put out the sour cream, cheese and cabbage and threw some forks on the counter and called it dinner. I couldn't eat right then because Max was melting down a little. But I took him to lie down and fed him. He returned happy. I ate my tacos and then more fish with sour cream. I don't know if the food was delicious but everyone seemed to eat, even the kids.
The adults went into the living room and the kids watched a movie. There was more chaos than usual--kids running back and forth to tell us about the movie, to freak out about the dog, to wonder where the one piece was to the Lego set, but I think the chaos was good. Without a little chaos, how would I have even known I had a weekend?
Today, a little less chaos. We're heading to the farmer's market and then I'm taking the stroller and the bike to the park to see how far this one path goes.
Friday, September 17, 2010
A week in food
So after the Sam's Club caving in, Erik challenged me (and himself) to spend only $75 more dollars in food that week. That included going out. And wine. And, in fairness, beer. After having spent $240 at the Sam's Club that seemed like not so big a trial (a box of wine and 24 Sierra Nevadas went a long way to cutting our "food" costs). But as you know, Sam's Club is good for meal planning but bad for actual meal making. Too much broccoli, absolutely no celery. You can buy 4000 cloves of peeled garlic but note just one head. I really did not want to go to the regular grocery store but I had CSA and the Farmer's Market. Celery, which rarely makes an appearance at any farmer's market I've been to, would be out.
In Sam's Club fashion I bought 2 packages of 40 oz ground turkey. Oh my, the ground turkey we ate. The first thing to make, along with grass-fed, locally raised ground beef, was bolognese ($5/lb.) I had bought 2 pounds of roma tomatoes at the farmer's market too $2.50/lb) and sweet onions. (I had chicken livers in the freezer (almost free), cream for my coffee (so that counts as free) and boxed red wine (also counting as free). But I did not have any celery. The last time I made bolognese, I didn't have any carrots. I also had some accidentally bought "fat-free" cream" which made the sauce corn syrupiriffic. This time, I was closer. It was almost perfect-- everything fresh and already at the house. So I substituted zucchini for celery. And, I do believe it was fine. Using fresh tomatoes instead of canned was also fine although maybe the sauce turned out a little less tomatoey-than you'd expect.
The next thing to do was to roast a roast. I made mashed potatoes and sauteed some amaranth greens from the CSA. Suffice to say, the roast, mashies and gravy (helped by cubes of beef bouillon (oh the humanity, bouillon cubes!)) were great. The amaranth greens tasted like sauteed caterpillars.
But the next night, more ground turkey awaited (I froze one of the 40 oz packages). Erik made turkey and shitake mushroom mini-meatloaves. What did we have on the side? That's right, leftover mashed potatoes and beef gravy with poultry seasoning tapped into it. Also, we had no worchestershire for the meatloaves so we substituted vinegar, fish sauce and a titch of sugar. Whatever. It was fine. On Facebook, people recommended tamarind paste. I can't imagine the amount of tamarind paste Sam's Club would sell me, if they had any, which they didn't.
The next night. Ground turkey tacos. The nice thing about all this ground meat was that since "the flavor profiles" (sorry, I just gagged a little typing that. Too much Top Chef) were from such distinct cuisines, it never tasted like you were eating the same meat. Plus, the 40 oz of ground turkey didn't go bad. Bonus.
Then, on Wednesday, I roasted a chicken (one of two bought from Sam's Club for $8.61. At the Farmer's Market, free range ones were $3.85/lb. Maybe next time). I brined the chicken for half an hour in salt water and then stuffed the bird with rosemary and thyme. Salted and peppered the outside and stuck that chicken on top of carrots (farmer's market $3.00 a bunch), red potatoes (CSA) and onions (I need to buy a case of onions). An hour and a half later, voila, best chicken ever. The potatoes were a slight bit salty and I think I would salt the already brined chicken a little less next time. It was possibly the easiest dinner I ever made. One pot! I've heard of these one pot dishes but they always make me think of casserole. This was more of a one roasting pan dinner and that I can abide.
Then out for pizza for dinner on Thursday--$35 (including wine and beer).
So did we spend less than $75? We did. Would I do it again? Even with the distinct flavor profiles, that was a lot of ground turkey to plow through. And there was something kind of regimented about it. And, I still have a lot of food leftover. All week, roast beef sandwiches. More bolognese in the fridge. There's still that much turkey and another chicken in the freezer. I have enough tortillas to see me through the End of Days (although I fear they'll go bad before that).
Zoe has enough juice boxes to last until Halloween (ACK the waste! I hate the juice box. But can I send her to school with a sippy cup full of big-bottled apple juice? I don't know!). We still have enough tissues, paper towels and toilet paper to line the outside of the house with absorbent pulpy products in case a giant vulture sneezes on us. Also, do you have any laundry? Because I have some laundry soap.
Today, I gave in and went to Safeway. It wasn't as painful as I'd remembered it. Maybe my expectations were low. I bought just a bottle of wine. Just a pound of carrots. And some celery. Zoe got a single doughnut. I felt so minimalist. I spent $60. Already, if I were on the $75 plan, pizza would be out this week. But really, the main problem with the regular grocery store? I think I have to go back tomorrow.
In Sam's Club fashion I bought 2 packages of 40 oz ground turkey. Oh my, the ground turkey we ate. The first thing to make, along with grass-fed, locally raised ground beef, was bolognese ($5/lb.) I had bought 2 pounds of roma tomatoes at the farmer's market too $2.50/lb) and sweet onions. (I had chicken livers in the freezer (almost free), cream for my coffee (so that counts as free) and boxed red wine (also counting as free). But I did not have any celery. The last time I made bolognese, I didn't have any carrots. I also had some accidentally bought "fat-free" cream" which made the sauce corn syrupiriffic. This time, I was closer. It was almost perfect-- everything fresh and already at the house. So I substituted zucchini for celery. And, I do believe it was fine. Using fresh tomatoes instead of canned was also fine although maybe the sauce turned out a little less tomatoey-than you'd expect.
The next thing to do was to roast a roast. I made mashed potatoes and sauteed some amaranth greens from the CSA. Suffice to say, the roast, mashies and gravy (helped by cubes of beef bouillon (oh the humanity, bouillon cubes!)) were great. The amaranth greens tasted like sauteed caterpillars.
But the next night, more ground turkey awaited (I froze one of the 40 oz packages). Erik made turkey and shitake mushroom mini-meatloaves. What did we have on the side? That's right, leftover mashed potatoes and beef gravy with poultry seasoning tapped into it. Also, we had no worchestershire for the meatloaves so we substituted vinegar, fish sauce and a titch of sugar. Whatever. It was fine. On Facebook, people recommended tamarind paste. I can't imagine the amount of tamarind paste Sam's Club would sell me, if they had any, which they didn't.
The next night. Ground turkey tacos. The nice thing about all this ground meat was that since "the flavor profiles" (sorry, I just gagged a little typing that. Too much Top Chef) were from such distinct cuisines, it never tasted like you were eating the same meat. Plus, the 40 oz of ground turkey didn't go bad. Bonus.
Then, on Wednesday, I roasted a chicken (one of two bought from Sam's Club for $8.61. At the Farmer's Market, free range ones were $3.85/lb. Maybe next time). I brined the chicken for half an hour in salt water and then stuffed the bird with rosemary and thyme. Salted and peppered the outside and stuck that chicken on top of carrots (farmer's market $3.00 a bunch), red potatoes (CSA) and onions (I need to buy a case of onions). An hour and a half later, voila, best chicken ever. The potatoes were a slight bit salty and I think I would salt the already brined chicken a little less next time. It was possibly the easiest dinner I ever made. One pot! I've heard of these one pot dishes but they always make me think of casserole. This was more of a one roasting pan dinner and that I can abide.
Then out for pizza for dinner on Thursday--$35 (including wine and beer).
So did we spend less than $75? We did. Would I do it again? Even with the distinct flavor profiles, that was a lot of ground turkey to plow through. And there was something kind of regimented about it. And, I still have a lot of food leftover. All week, roast beef sandwiches. More bolognese in the fridge. There's still that much turkey and another chicken in the freezer. I have enough tortillas to see me through the End of Days (although I fear they'll go bad before that).
Zoe has enough juice boxes to last until Halloween (ACK the waste! I hate the juice box. But can I send her to school with a sippy cup full of big-bottled apple juice? I don't know!). We still have enough tissues, paper towels and toilet paper to line the outside of the house with absorbent pulpy products in case a giant vulture sneezes on us. Also, do you have any laundry? Because I have some laundry soap.
Today, I gave in and went to Safeway. It wasn't as painful as I'd remembered it. Maybe my expectations were low. I bought just a bottle of wine. Just a pound of carrots. And some celery. Zoe got a single doughnut. I felt so minimalist. I spent $60. Already, if I were on the $75 plan, pizza would be out this week. But really, the main problem with the regular grocery store? I think I have to go back tomorrow.
Monday, September 13, 2010
A non-anonymous day
There's too much exciting happening today to pretend I'm pseudonymous today. First, on the Huffington Post there is a great photographer riffing on my favorite poet, Bob Hicok's, piece about asteroids. Does Bob know Zoe's name is Zoe? I don't think so. Does Erik share my dark sense of foreboding about the end of the world? I don't think so.
And, Sean Lovelace, great writer, extreme nacho-eater, marathon runner, and htmlGiant contributor, interviewed me about This Noisy Egg on htmlGiant.
To you all who already said amazingly nice things on the Facebook, I say I am so lucky to know so many great people. Thank you.
And, Sean Lovelace, great writer, extreme nacho-eater, marathon runner, and htmlGiant contributor, interviewed me about This Noisy Egg on htmlGiant.
To you all who already said amazingly nice things on the Facebook, I say I am so lucky to know so many great people. Thank you.
Thursday, September 09, 2010
Sam's Club
Perhaps you know my feelings about Sam's Club. If you're like my friend Lydia, who upon reading my food book, said about my Walmart screed, "why don't you tell us how you really feel?" I've only been inside a Walmart once and that was in Hawaii and I just went in to pee. I would have peed on the floor but I'm a lady. Or something.
But also. If you know anything about my feelings about the impending global food shortages, you know how I feel about Costco. Costco is one of our few weapons against the apocalypse. How will you survive the End of Days? With 24 boxes of Macaroni and Cheese. With one full pound of Parmesan. With a case of canned tomatoes.
(Two side stories. Once, for Renn Fayre, the final party of the year after theses were turned in at Reed College, I was an assistant to the makers of the hummus. Or the tabouli. Not, sadly, the meat smoke. Still, I promised the hummus makers that Costco carried a 32 ounce tub of peeled garlic. When we arrived at Costco (my mom sent me to college with a membership), they had no tubs of garlic. We had to peel our own. That is one problem with the Costco. It doesn't always have on the shelves this week what it had on the shelves last week. The second story is also about college and my mother. She sent me to Reed with a case of pencils. I ran out of those pencils just a year ago. That's like 18 years worth of pencils.)
Here's the problem. Flagstaff has no Costco. I emailed Costco the first thing when we moved here. "Will you be moving here soon?", I asked. "There is no "public" information about that," I was told. I took it to mean I just had to wait a couple of weeks. But now, two years later, there is still no Costco.
I was out of parm. I was out of contact cleaning solution. Out of Benadryl and shitake mushrooms. At some point, and, after I had to pointedly boycott Target for their particularly anti-gay attitude lately, I could not go on without. Is Sam's Club worse for the world than Costco? Is there more packaging, more stuff made in China, more jobs lost, more small businesses put out by Sam's Club than Costco. Probably not. And, these are dire times. The food. It is short.
So I went. I paid the $40 for the membership and bought organic nectarines, two pounds of shitakes, grapes, chicken thighs, 24 Sierra Nevadas for $18, six boxes of spaghetti, 5 avocados, pine nuts (oh how I've been holding out for the full pound of pine nuts), two bottles of wine (the Sam's Club in Arizona has benefits over the Sam's Club or the Costco in teetotaling Utah), bread, tortillas (more than we'll ever eat), cold cuts, and Greek yogurt, laundry and dishwasher soap.
The packaging was no more disturbing than at the regular grocery. And, the bonus is, I didn't have to go to the regular grocery store all week. Which is the main goal. Besides providing provisions for the end times. Also, now I can invite you over for dinner. For tortillas. with butter.
p.s. Erik went back two days later and got tissues, paper towels, milk and butter. So do come for the butter.
But also. If you know anything about my feelings about the impending global food shortages, you know how I feel about Costco. Costco is one of our few weapons against the apocalypse. How will you survive the End of Days? With 24 boxes of Macaroni and Cheese. With one full pound of Parmesan. With a case of canned tomatoes.
(Two side stories. Once, for Renn Fayre, the final party of the year after theses were turned in at Reed College, I was an assistant to the makers of the hummus. Or the tabouli. Not, sadly, the meat smoke. Still, I promised the hummus makers that Costco carried a 32 ounce tub of peeled garlic. When we arrived at Costco (my mom sent me to college with a membership), they had no tubs of garlic. We had to peel our own. That is one problem with the Costco. It doesn't always have on the shelves this week what it had on the shelves last week. The second story is also about college and my mother. She sent me to Reed with a case of pencils. I ran out of those pencils just a year ago. That's like 18 years worth of pencils.)
Here's the problem. Flagstaff has no Costco. I emailed Costco the first thing when we moved here. "Will you be moving here soon?", I asked. "There is no "public" information about that," I was told. I took it to mean I just had to wait a couple of weeks. But now, two years later, there is still no Costco.
I was out of parm. I was out of contact cleaning solution. Out of Benadryl and shitake mushrooms. At some point, and, after I had to pointedly boycott Target for their particularly anti-gay attitude lately, I could not go on without. Is Sam's Club worse for the world than Costco? Is there more packaging, more stuff made in China, more jobs lost, more small businesses put out by Sam's Club than Costco. Probably not. And, these are dire times. The food. It is short.
So I went. I paid the $40 for the membership and bought organic nectarines, two pounds of shitakes, grapes, chicken thighs, 24 Sierra Nevadas for $18, six boxes of spaghetti, 5 avocados, pine nuts (oh how I've been holding out for the full pound of pine nuts), two bottles of wine (the Sam's Club in Arizona has benefits over the Sam's Club or the Costco in teetotaling Utah), bread, tortillas (more than we'll ever eat), cold cuts, and Greek yogurt, laundry and dishwasher soap.
The packaging was no more disturbing than at the regular grocery. And, the bonus is, I didn't have to go to the regular grocery store all week. Which is the main goal. Besides providing provisions for the end times. Also, now I can invite you over for dinner. For tortillas. with butter.
p.s. Erik went back two days later and got tissues, paper towels, milk and butter. So do come for the butter.
Monday, September 06, 2010
I love oysters so much
And yet, with that happy title, I must say that there are no oysters here. Or, rather, I've had two oysters in Flagstaff at a place called Buster's which is part Denny's, part country club and really confused about what a seafood platter should offer. I'm still wiping the smell of the smoked salmon off my hands. The two oysters weren't bad but it's hard to enjoy them when you know eating them is probably a bad idea. Oysters in the middle of the desert, in a town where planes fly only to Phoenix, not to the oyster-bearing ocean are probably a bad idea.
We went to Lake Powell.
[Redacted for bad attitude. Val did have a nice bikini.]
We got home Tuesday afternoon at 1:30 just in time for me to teach at 3:00. Some of the teaching was clear and precise. Some of it was a little bit hazy. Like the rest of my mind.
The next night, Wednesday, the trace of the trip , like zebra mussels stuck to the bottom of your boat, was revealed. We went to dinner since we had a coupon and no food in the house. We sat down. We ordered edamame. Zoe laid back against her chair and then sat up quickly. And then she threw up all the edamame she'd just put down. Waitress! Actually, first I used every red, non-absorbent napkin I could find to sop up the goo. Then I asked the waitress if we could get our order to go. Erik took Z to the car and stripped her down and waited for me and Max to come out with dinner, after I took the napkins back to the kitchen so the server didn't have to touch them. Still. I don't think there's tip enough in the world. We hurried home, got Zoe in the bath and sat down to eat. Nothing better than sushi post vomit-cleansing.
Two days later, Max. Same thing. All night. Poor baby. We missed the fair but we did manage to have people over for dinner. We warned them about Max's stomach bug and Zoe's incubating head-cold. They came anyway because they're adventurous, disaster-ready souls. Perhaps we'll take them boating next time although the next boat I go on will be on a boat that heads toward an oyster bed. And a real bed. And a real bathroom.
We went to Lake Powell.
[Redacted for bad attitude. Val did have a nice bikini.]
We got home Tuesday afternoon at 1:30 just in time for me to teach at 3:00. Some of the teaching was clear and precise. Some of it was a little bit hazy. Like the rest of my mind.
The next night, Wednesday, the trace of the trip , like zebra mussels stuck to the bottom of your boat, was revealed. We went to dinner since we had a coupon and no food in the house. We sat down. We ordered edamame. Zoe laid back against her chair and then sat up quickly. And then she threw up all the edamame she'd just put down. Waitress! Actually, first I used every red, non-absorbent napkin I could find to sop up the goo. Then I asked the waitress if we could get our order to go. Erik took Z to the car and stripped her down and waited for me and Max to come out with dinner, after I took the napkins back to the kitchen so the server didn't have to touch them. Still. I don't think there's tip enough in the world. We hurried home, got Zoe in the bath and sat down to eat. Nothing better than sushi post vomit-cleansing.
Two days later, Max. Same thing. All night. Poor baby. We missed the fair but we did manage to have people over for dinner. We warned them about Max's stomach bug and Zoe's incubating head-cold. They came anyway because they're adventurous, disaster-ready souls. Perhaps we'll take them boating next time although the next boat I go on will be on a boat that heads toward an oyster bed. And a real bed. And a real bathroom.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
No, no, that's not what I meant
There are no comments on my last post, and rather than say something not nice, you said nothing at all. Perhaps you're correlating the baby not sleeping with the fact that I feed him sticks and rocks. But no, it's not true. He eats other things. Mainly hummus and bananas. The sticks are just flavoring.
Friday, August 27, 2010
What I'll Miss Most about Summer
In the late afternoon, Erik and Zoe water our new plants. We have Russian sage, echinacea, holly hocks, daisies, sunflowers, lavender, pentemmons, maguerites, locoweed, blue beard, flag grass and a lot of wildflowers that I can't name. Our neighbors, excited about our interest in plants, divide theirs and send them over. Erik rehabilitated a wind-blown blue beard of theirs. It came over as a stick and now is a full fledged plant.
I take Max's comforter out and plop it on the dirt next to the honey locust tree where Zoe has established fairy land. Mushroom, angels, bunnies, frogs, mermaid and even fairy figurines. I bring a glass of wine and sit on the blanket while Zoe flies the fairies by me and Max. Max likes to eat sticks, pine needles and pine cones. I sometimes let him gnaw on rocks but fear that might be bad for his teeth. Pine cones are deceivingly messy. Almost as bad as teething crackers but I sense they taste a little better. When Max has peeled the bark of the stick, it's time to start cooking dinner. I've learned to grill broccoli so if I'm lucky, I can stay outside longer. Sometimes, grilled broccoli tastes like sticks but it's still better than doing any dishes.
I take Max's comforter out and plop it on the dirt next to the honey locust tree where Zoe has established fairy land. Mushroom, angels, bunnies, frogs, mermaid and even fairy figurines. I bring a glass of wine and sit on the blanket while Zoe flies the fairies by me and Max. Max likes to eat sticks, pine needles and pine cones. I sometimes let him gnaw on rocks but fear that might be bad for his teeth. Pine cones are deceivingly messy. Almost as bad as teething crackers but I sense they taste a little better. When Max has peeled the bark of the stick, it's time to start cooking dinner. I've learned to grill broccoli so if I'm lucky, I can stay outside longer. Sometimes, grilled broccoli tastes like sticks but it's still better than doing any dishes.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Overstimulated
I think I saw more people yesterday than I saw all summer. This meant no sleep for me. When people talk, I listen and then I fret. No fewer than six people asked me what Kindergarten Zoe was going to. When I told her public school, they turned their faces away. They couldn't look at my shame. Also. One student emailed to say he was sorry he called me by my first name. Also I asked for red wine instead of a martini on a hot day in June. I remembered two of the nineteen names I learned. I ate a sandwich standing up, meaning I ate mayonnaise off my fingers.
I'm not quite ready for school to begin. I need to submerge slowly rather than dive in. One person on Monday. Maybe two on Tuesday. By November I can probably handle the attention of a full class.
In other non sleeping news, Max does not do it. Why sleep when you can pretend to eat all night. He doesn't eat. He nibbles like a bunny rabbit. He falls asleep nibbling but when I dare to suggest he go sleep in some way not attached to me, he wakes up indignant. Like I'm starving him to death. I've started putting him in his crib. This helps 1%. He still wakes up every two hours. I have resorted to saying "no more milk" and "go to sleep" which has the effect, usually, of making him say, oh my god, I would like no more sleep. Perhaps I can have some milk. Advice appreciated, although from what I understand, boys are like this and I may never sleep again. Which means when, in November, I do have the full attention of the class, I will be fully sleeping on my desk.
I'm not quite ready for school to begin. I need to submerge slowly rather than dive in. One person on Monday. Maybe two on Tuesday. By November I can probably handle the attention of a full class.
In other non sleeping news, Max does not do it. Why sleep when you can pretend to eat all night. He doesn't eat. He nibbles like a bunny rabbit. He falls asleep nibbling but when I dare to suggest he go sleep in some way not attached to me, he wakes up indignant. Like I'm starving him to death. I've started putting him in his crib. This helps 1%. He still wakes up every two hours. I have resorted to saying "no more milk" and "go to sleep" which has the effect, usually, of making him say, oh my god, I would like no more sleep. Perhaps I can have some milk. Advice appreciated, although from what I understand, boys are like this and I may never sleep again. Which means when, in November, I do have the full attention of the class, I will be fully sleeping on my desk.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Beer Fest
These are probably the worst pictures ever taken but I only had my Blackberry. And it's shaky. And I'd had some beers.
As you can see, it was raining. Did I mention that we live in the Pacific Northwest now? In July, it rained every day. We woke up to rain. We went to bed with rain. Some days, it rained so hard there was rain up to the bottom slat of the siding on the outside of the house. The back patio still has a layer of once-mud.
We went to the beer fest anyway. Last year, they canceled the beer fest because of the economy. The economy we couldn't ignore but the rain we could. It turns out, we don't own an umbrella but we do own hats so we hatted up and headed out. It rained as we walked to the festival and it rained as we deliberated how many tickets to by. Because the economy is still rough, I thought we should go with the bargain--ten bucks for twenty pours. Erik questions my economic path and also how much help I'm going to be with drinking these pours. But I've lived in the Northwest! I know how to do the beer fest. (ooh. rhymey).
It turns out twenty pours is about sixty ounces. That's about three beers each. But there's something about the beer fest that suggests quick drinking. So we drank quickly. The sun came out. Zoe made some friends (a very in-your-face girl that went up under the brim of Zoe's hat and said: "HI. DO YOU WANT TO DANCE?" Zoe recovered eventually and danced in the mud. We drank a little more beer. I don't think I drank my full thirty ounces but, judging from the high quality of the pictures, I might have.
Wednesday, August 04, 2010
The crush of days
I don't know what happened between Zoe's birthday, July 16th and now. I do know that my computer is trying to kill me. Or, possibly computers and the internet together. First, Erik's Mac died. I know. Macs never die. And yet? Where is it? At Mac Docs or some Flagstaff knock-off, trying to be resuscitated. Then, four days later, while using Internet Explorer, which is not my browser of choice and therefore, doesn't have all the anti-virus add-ons that I use for Firefox, someone (not to be named) clicked on a website that instantly brought on a virus of death. It was the kind of virus that any time you tried to open an application, a pretend "we'll save your computer with our antiviral software" window appeared. I cried real tears because this is the week the Huffington Post collaboration project goes live. I had nothing to do BUT computer stuff. Email editors, my collaborating friend, artists. I had no back up plan. No Erik computer. Well, I did have my Blackberry, which I do recall crying about for getting for my birthday. I was pregnant and thought I needed no more internet to help me neglect my children. But, apparently, I did! Erik is full of forethought.
So, using my Blackberry and Middlebrow's computer (who promises to blog again, because he and Dr. Write were visiting, I was able to contact my people. And, with their company, I was able to distract myself from all the internet that was passing me by.
On Monday, I got a loaner computer. It took 35 minutes for it to power up. It had no wireless card. It had no Photoshop and no way to open more than one window every six minutes. But, like any good drug substitute, it could access the internet and let me make the first Huff Post response. Yay.
Other internet badness ensued. Both MSN and my university's email system decided to "improve" themselves. Such improvement copied Gmail's "conversation" system, meaning all the emails with the same subject compiled themselves. That's one thing when you're creating the conversations but it's entirely another when it does it after the fact, all the emails whose subject read "grad question" or "thank you" were compiled into one conversation. Only the latest email was replyable to. The internet has driven me to use the word replyable. It also makes me end sentences in prepositions.
On top of the technological difficulties, Mr. Max has employed his own technical difficulties. At night, he seems to think that having a nipple in his mouth is the same thing as sleeping. While fine for him, for me, nippling and sleeping are opposite activities. I blame Erik because months ago, he frowned on giving Max a binky. Now, when certain babies need binkies most, it turns out I'm the binky. I'm working on a technological fix that will allow Erik to be the binky.
The good news is, in between all the business and disaster, I was able to make Zoe's birthday dinner, put up some peaches from our friend's peach tree, and make the best pork chops ever. Perhaps, if my children will let me ignore them further (Zoe is joining me in complaining that Tiffany, not Kevin, should have won Top Chef and Max is surfing on his stomach on his boppy pillow), I will post the recipes at NVP.
I also plan on posting all the stuff that I have to do now that, I gather from the way I'm getting emails in my now-mostly-unusable university email, summer is mostly over (sorry Hightouch. I have been following your plan to not mention summer's demise until it's really over but I couldn't help it.)
Edited to add: I forgot the biggest crush. My laptop had a hairline fracture in the screen. Annoying but hair-like and entirely see-through-able. After it went in to the University computer doctors, it came back with green, ugly splotches where the crack was. This computer is not long for this world. We pray that we need not bury both the Mac and this Dell Latitude together in the backyard. What would the children do with all our attention?
So, using my Blackberry and Middlebrow's computer (who promises to blog again, because he and Dr. Write were visiting, I was able to contact my people. And, with their company, I was able to distract myself from all the internet that was passing me by.
On Monday, I got a loaner computer. It took 35 minutes for it to power up. It had no wireless card. It had no Photoshop and no way to open more than one window every six minutes. But, like any good drug substitute, it could access the internet and let me make the first Huff Post response. Yay.
Other internet badness ensued. Both MSN and my university's email system decided to "improve" themselves. Such improvement copied Gmail's "conversation" system, meaning all the emails with the same subject compiled themselves. That's one thing when you're creating the conversations but it's entirely another when it does it after the fact, all the emails whose subject read "grad question" or "thank you" were compiled into one conversation. Only the latest email was replyable to. The internet has driven me to use the word replyable. It also makes me end sentences in prepositions.
On top of the technological difficulties, Mr. Max has employed his own technical difficulties. At night, he seems to think that having a nipple in his mouth is the same thing as sleeping. While fine for him, for me, nippling and sleeping are opposite activities. I blame Erik because months ago, he frowned on giving Max a binky. Now, when certain babies need binkies most, it turns out I'm the binky. I'm working on a technological fix that will allow Erik to be the binky.
The good news is, in between all the business and disaster, I was able to make Zoe's birthday dinner, put up some peaches from our friend's peach tree, and make the best pork chops ever. Perhaps, if my children will let me ignore them further (Zoe is joining me in complaining that Tiffany, not Kevin, should have won Top Chef and Max is surfing on his stomach on his boppy pillow), I will post the recipes at NVP.
I also plan on posting all the stuff that I have to do now that, I gather from the way I'm getting emails in my now-mostly-unusable university email, summer is mostly over (sorry Hightouch. I have been following your plan to not mention summer's demise until it's really over but I couldn't help it.)
Edited to add: I forgot the biggest crush. My laptop had a hairline fracture in the screen. Annoying but hair-like and entirely see-through-able. After it went in to the University computer doctors, it came back with green, ugly splotches where the crack was. This computer is not long for this world. We pray that we need not bury both the Mac and this Dell Latitude together in the backyard. What would the children do with all our attention?
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Max and dinner
While I'm cooking dinner, Max sits in his high chair, dangling the stethescope we accidentally stole from the hospital when Zoe was there for her RSV. He's fascinated with the way it hangs from the table. He drops the stethescope and makes the honking goose sound that reminds us of Zoe. Erik feeds him two plums he mashed between his fingers. I overboil some extra cauliflower and Erik purees that in the Cuisinart. Zoe feeds it to him until she gets "so tired" that I take over. He also eats some plain cous cous. Except for the pork chop and the plums for peaches, Max ate a lot for what we ate for dinner. He needed a bath after. So did the floor but it was very good that everyone could sit at the table and eat together. After his bath, Erik handed him to me. He tried to eat my shoulder. He's a nestler. And he's always hungry but I think that runs in the family.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Pho for Ali
This is a recipe I have adapted from a Martha Stewart cook book.
For the broth:
4 oz rice noodles.
4 cups Beef Stock.
3 tbsp Nam pla (Asian fish sauce)
5 star anise
6 cloves
2 cinnamon sticks
2 rounds of ginger
1 tsp. ground pepper
To accompany:
1 pound very lean sirloin of beef.
small onion, sliced thinly
jalapeno, sliced
1 lime, quartered
Sriracha Sauce
Hoisin (optional. Makes it too sweet, I think).
Freeze the sirloin for a about an hour so you can slice it thinly.
Soften the noodles in a bowl with hot water.
Combine stock, water fish sauce and spices in a large pot. Simmer broth for one hour (this should reduce the stock enough that you don't need more salt but if you do, add some.)
Slice sirloin as thinly as possible and pop it in the hot broth. Garnish with limes, basil, sriracha, onion and jalapeno. And hoisin if you must.
For the broth:
4 oz rice noodles.
4 cups Beef Stock.
3 tbsp Nam pla (Asian fish sauce)
5 star anise
6 cloves
2 cinnamon sticks
2 rounds of ginger
1 tsp. ground pepper
To accompany:
1 pound very lean sirloin of beef.
small onion, sliced thinly
jalapeno, sliced
1 lime, quartered
Sriracha Sauce
Hoisin (optional. Makes it too sweet, I think).
Freeze the sirloin for a about an hour so you can slice it thinly.
Soften the noodles in a bowl with hot water.
Combine stock, water fish sauce and spices in a large pot. Simmer broth for one hour (this should reduce the stock enough that you don't need more salt but if you do, add some.)
Slice sirloin as thinly as possible and pop it in the hot broth. Garnish with limes, basil, sriracha, onion and jalapeno. And hoisin if you must.
Pho Dai Loc
I was going to write a list of all the things I should have bought in Salt Lake: pants and duck liver, pork belly and pancetta, pajamas for Max and underwear for Zoe, apricots and tomatoes. I should have eaten at the Korean restaurant and at the noodle house but then we got back and I remembered, if I go to many stores, I will be able to buy most of the things I need. It's not the food, really, that I miss in Salt Lake. What I miss in Salt Lake is the people who take Zoe on picnics and feed Max cereal and bananas. I miss the people who grill non-COFC steak for me or love it when I cook them mushrooms. It takes a little while to adjust to being back and not being surrounded by Zoe players and Max admirers. However, I am catching up on Top Chef, Chopped and Next Food Network Star.
Watching those made me starving since I never really watch food shows in the day. All the things I had regretted not eating or buying in Salt Lake paraded in front of me. But I remembered (I was gone for two whole weeks and had forgotten) that if I apply myself I can get most ingredients, maybe even more cheaply and maybe even more locally grown, than I can get in Salt Lake. I can't get my mom, sisters or mother-in-law here more than a couple times a year, but I can get lemons for a dollar a pound. I went to Randall's the Butcher for chicken, bacon, eggs, ground sirloin and pork. Then, I went to the Farmer's Market store for those cheap lemons, even less expensive broccoli and cauliflower. As opposed to going to evil Safeway where I would have spent $125 on the same things, I got more and better for less. $20 at the Farmers Market Store and $28 at the butcher. Yay.
So Zoe, who came with me on these errands, deserved a treat. And we were still starving. We wanted soup. What's her favorite soup? Maybe Tom Gha Kai, but I had just finished writing a story about how Pho Bo cured her of one of her worst coughs. She doesn't have a cough but Flagstaff does have a restaurant that serves Pho. So I took her there. She was cautious. It had been a long time since she'd had the soup. We went to Pho Dai Loc last over a year ago. I worry about this restaurant. It's in the front of one of the run down motels on Route 66. This might not attract the downtown eating folks. And I'm not sure the people who drive down Route 66 in their restored Corvettes are looking for Pho. But today, it was still open. So we went in. There are two other people there at 12:45. Not entirely promising for its future.
But the ingredients are fresh. When we order the Pho Tai and the fried shrimp in case Zoe's palate has regressed (or progressed or gressed in any direction), it came with perfectly thinly sliced sirloin, fresh, not slimy, bean sprouts, lime and great thai basil. The broth is spicy and star anisey like it should be. I give Z some rice noodles and just a little broth to start. She loves them. She asks for more broth but I've already put sriracha sauce in mine. Oh well. She likes red hot peppers on her pizza. So I give her more broth. She drinks that up, along with her ice water, and then asks for more. She eats most of the soup and none of the fried shrimp. Those were left to me which were extra amazing--crunchy, toothy, and with a sweet and sour sauce. I called Erik to ask if he wanted some Pho to go. He did so we ordered another batch. On our way out the door, someone, perhaps one of those restored Corvette drivers, asks how the food is. I tell him delicious. I hope if 10 people go there a day, it won't go out of business.
An additional bonus, inside, they sell Asian Food products that you might not be able to get a Safeway.
Here's what Safeway's good for: milk, cat litter, beer, wine, cheese. And yogurt. Maybe one day, Flagstaff will have a Winder Dairy like Salt Lake does.
But the good news is, you can get Pho in Flagstaff and it's good. It's also just as good at home. Zoe wanted half of Erik's Pho too. She's full of Pho and sriracha like all good five year olds, downtown diners and Route 66 drivers should be.
Watching those made me starving since I never really watch food shows in the day. All the things I had regretted not eating or buying in Salt Lake paraded in front of me. But I remembered (I was gone for two whole weeks and had forgotten) that if I apply myself I can get most ingredients, maybe even more cheaply and maybe even more locally grown, than I can get in Salt Lake. I can't get my mom, sisters or mother-in-law here more than a couple times a year, but I can get lemons for a dollar a pound. I went to Randall's the Butcher for chicken, bacon, eggs, ground sirloin and pork. Then, I went to the Farmer's Market store for those cheap lemons, even less expensive broccoli and cauliflower. As opposed to going to evil Safeway where I would have spent $125 on the same things, I got more and better for less. $20 at the Farmers Market Store and $28 at the butcher. Yay.
So Zoe, who came with me on these errands, deserved a treat. And we were still starving. We wanted soup. What's her favorite soup? Maybe Tom Gha Kai, but I had just finished writing a story about how Pho Bo cured her of one of her worst coughs. She doesn't have a cough but Flagstaff does have a restaurant that serves Pho. So I took her there. She was cautious. It had been a long time since she'd had the soup. We went to Pho Dai Loc last over a year ago. I worry about this restaurant. It's in the front of one of the run down motels on Route 66. This might not attract the downtown eating folks. And I'm not sure the people who drive down Route 66 in their restored Corvettes are looking for Pho. But today, it was still open. So we went in. There are two other people there at 12:45. Not entirely promising for its future.
But the ingredients are fresh. When we order the Pho Tai and the fried shrimp in case Zoe's palate has regressed (or progressed or gressed in any direction), it came with perfectly thinly sliced sirloin, fresh, not slimy, bean sprouts, lime and great thai basil. The broth is spicy and star anisey like it should be. I give Z some rice noodles and just a little broth to start. She loves them. She asks for more broth but I've already put sriracha sauce in mine. Oh well. She likes red hot peppers on her pizza. So I give her more broth. She drinks that up, along with her ice water, and then asks for more. She eats most of the soup and none of the fried shrimp. Those were left to me which were extra amazing--crunchy, toothy, and with a sweet and sour sauce. I called Erik to ask if he wanted some Pho to go. He did so we ordered another batch. On our way out the door, someone, perhaps one of those restored Corvette drivers, asks how the food is. I tell him delicious. I hope if 10 people go there a day, it won't go out of business.
An additional bonus, inside, they sell Asian Food products that you might not be able to get a Safeway.
Here's what Safeway's good for: milk, cat litter, beer, wine, cheese. And yogurt. Maybe one day, Flagstaff will have a Winder Dairy like Salt Lake does.
But the good news is, you can get Pho in Flagstaff and it's good. It's also just as good at home. Zoe wanted half of Erik's Pho too. She's full of Pho and sriracha like all good five year olds, downtown diners and Route 66 drivers should be.
Monday, July 12, 2010
Five
Zoe is almost five. We're celebrating her birthday in Salt Lake with fried chicken from Meier's, homemade cupcakes and potato salad made by our fine relatives. I should have no gifts but I forgot. Zoe's at a kind of hilarious age where she tells everyone who asks that she would like the same thing. She will end up with 14 hula hoops on Friday.
I saw a picture of her from last year and I said to El, my mother-in-law, that's not from last year. She said, that's Italy. And it was Italy which was last year but in the picture, she still looks like a baby. She is the opposite of a baby now. She has a song that goes like this: Candy apple on a stick, makes my heart go 246. Not because I'm dirty. Not because I'm clean. Just because I kissed a boy behind the magazine. That's right. Hiding her naughty romance in the periodicals. That's my kid at 5. Thanks Mountain Jacks Camp! She also learned to swing, hula hoop and go under water in the swimming pool these past two weeks. She's learned that all grown ups do is talk and that if there are no kids around, it is no fun. Also, she says that unless you're dirty, you're not really playing. She has run through the sprinklers and eaten popsicles and complained about not having pretty enough shoes or a pretty dress for her birthday. She wants a princess backpack for her birthday even though she knows I hate princesses. She just looks at me until I come to my senses and say, OK, fine, it's your birthday.
Yesterday, she wouldn't talk to Erik's aunt or cousin in some super shyness but alternates super shyness with moments of true brazenness, like when she asks my mom's boyfriend for a taffy cookie. Sugar and sweets will draw her out with almost anyone.
She just ate a new cereal. Mostly, she just eats Frosted MiniWheats but this morning she said, I'm worried I'll still be hungry after Miniwheats. We gave her some fancy GoLean Kashi cereal instead. She thinks she's full for now.
When she's talking and telling a particularly long story, she'll pause for words she's forgotten and say "whatever it is" with open hands. That's how I see her mostly. She's open to the answer and she'll figure it out. I worry that she's so open that the world will crush her, but I imagine all parents worry about that. It's like being worried you won't be full before you even eat breakfast. Eventually, you just have to eat.
She still eats well. She's kind of off meat right now but still likes sweet potatoes, watermelon, peaches, blueberries, cherries, canteloupe and ice cream, cookies (Mother's Taffy) and regular, salt water taffy. She does not like french fries or ketchup.
She asks that people please don't bring anything yucky to her birthday. Yucky includes ketchup. It also includes mustard to which my mom agrees.
Zoe likes to help feed Max which means everyone is twice as messy as they would be if only Max were feeding himself. Max likes trout, salmon, peaches, blueberries and peaches and rice cereal. After the troupe of cereal eating monkeys sprinkled granules of rice on every surface and in every crevice, Erik asked her wash her hands and then to please go get his camera to which she said to me, my goodness he needs a lot of stuff. It's better just to want one thing--like a hula hoop.
I saw a picture of her from last year and I said to El, my mother-in-law, that's not from last year. She said, that's Italy. And it was Italy which was last year but in the picture, she still looks like a baby. She is the opposite of a baby now. She has a song that goes like this: Candy apple on a stick, makes my heart go 246. Not because I'm dirty. Not because I'm clean. Just because I kissed a boy behind the magazine. That's right. Hiding her naughty romance in the periodicals. That's my kid at 5. Thanks Mountain Jacks Camp! She also learned to swing, hula hoop and go under water in the swimming pool these past two weeks. She's learned that all grown ups do is talk and that if there are no kids around, it is no fun. Also, she says that unless you're dirty, you're not really playing. She has run through the sprinklers and eaten popsicles and complained about not having pretty enough shoes or a pretty dress for her birthday. She wants a princess backpack for her birthday even though she knows I hate princesses. She just looks at me until I come to my senses and say, OK, fine, it's your birthday.
Yesterday, she wouldn't talk to Erik's aunt or cousin in some super shyness but alternates super shyness with moments of true brazenness, like when she asks my mom's boyfriend for a taffy cookie. Sugar and sweets will draw her out with almost anyone.
She just ate a new cereal. Mostly, she just eats Frosted MiniWheats but this morning she said, I'm worried I'll still be hungry after Miniwheats. We gave her some fancy GoLean Kashi cereal instead. She thinks she's full for now.
When she's talking and telling a particularly long story, she'll pause for words she's forgotten and say "whatever it is" with open hands. That's how I see her mostly. She's open to the answer and she'll figure it out. I worry that she's so open that the world will crush her, but I imagine all parents worry about that. It's like being worried you won't be full before you even eat breakfast. Eventually, you just have to eat.
She still eats well. She's kind of off meat right now but still likes sweet potatoes, watermelon, peaches, blueberries, cherries, canteloupe and ice cream, cookies (Mother's Taffy) and regular, salt water taffy. She does not like french fries or ketchup.
She asks that people please don't bring anything yucky to her birthday. Yucky includes ketchup. It also includes mustard to which my mom agrees.
Zoe likes to help feed Max which means everyone is twice as messy as they would be if only Max were feeding himself. Max likes trout, salmon, peaches, blueberries and peaches and rice cereal. After the troupe of cereal eating monkeys sprinkled granules of rice on every surface and in every crevice, Erik asked her wash her hands and then to please go get his camera to which she said to me, my goodness he needs a lot of stuff. It's better just to want one thing--like a hula hoop.
Wednesday, July 07, 2010
Car Food, Summer Food, Salt Lake Food
So far, they all have one thing in common: hamburger. Something happens in the summer that makes me treat red meat less like dead animal to be served with some sort of reverence and thanks and more like potato chips. I can't eat just one and you just open the grill and out pop pre-made patties that are tossed out onto buns. I eat mine without a bun with a little salt. Just like a potato chip. I can eat two without noticing I ate anything. Sometimes, it requires a hot dog to inform my stomach that dinner is already over. I try to celebrate red meat like I do in the winter by making a more gourmet version. I'll do fancy hamburgers stuffed with jalapenos or with a little frozen pad of butter stuff inside, or, as Val made the other night, lamb burgers with delicious tzatziki sauce. But I'll also just eat whatever brown round thing comes my way. I'm not discriminating, at least in the summer, when it comes to burgers. On the drive up to Salt Lake, I had a double, plain Wendy's hamburger. Then last night, a plain burger from the Training Table. It was delicious dipped in Salt Lakean fry sauce* (making it, I guess, less plain). But I'm feeling cow sad and like I should take a break from the potato-chip like frenzy and eat something less dead and more healthy. Like potato chips. Except I think my in-laws are grilling hamburgers for dinner. Maybe I'll join my mother-in-law and have a garden burger. With fry sauce*.
* Fry sauce is made basically with ketchup and mayonnaise and some secret spices like at Hires Drive-in but at the Training Table, it is made with barbecue sauce and mayonnaise. Homemade versions never compare. Restaurants must add MSG or some other delicious, nearly illegal substance to make it taste so good and keep it so secret.
* Fry sauce is made basically with ketchup and mayonnaise and some secret spices like at Hires Drive-in but at the Training Table, it is made with barbecue sauce and mayonnaise. Homemade versions never compare. Restaurants must add MSG or some other delicious, nearly illegal substance to make it taste so good and keep it so secret.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Grocery Shopping in Flagstaff
I went out for a glass of wine with my colleague from the department last night. She divides her time between here and Oakland. We were talking about how Flag housing is as expensive as Oakland (OK, only almost as), and I said, it's not just the housing, it's the groceries. I cannot buy feta for less than $5.99/lb. If I do see it on sale, it's always that ridiculous kind with basil and tomatoes already somehow filtered in. My colleague said, that's true, when I come in from Oakland, I bring my groceries. When my friend came to camp, she brought pancetta, goat cheese, yogurt, all from Trader Joes. Her pancetta cost less there than store-brand bacon here. I don't even think there is pancetta here.
One can shop in Flag and find most things, it just takes a trip to three or four stores. If it's summer and you can include the farmer's market, then you can find most good things fresh. I shop at Safeway for Frosted MiniWheats and Fruit Roll Ups, Tillamook Cheese, boneless, skinless chicken thighs and butter, Randall's meat market for steaks and pork chops (he does have good bacon, but no pancetta), the store called the Farmer's Market for almonds and apricots, cheap herbs, tortillas, jalepenos and bell peppers, New Frontiers for fish and organic produce (when in season, it's not astronomically expensive), and the CSA/farmer's market for coffee and eggs and surprising vegetables and fruit.
It takes half my life to shop for groceries. And the Farmer's Market here? I have to say, meh. I bought carrots, melon, tomatoes and somehow spent $20. Talk about half my life. I mean half my paycheck. People call Wholefoods Whole Paycheck. They should call Flagstaff Whole Paycheck except that it's neither funny nor full of pun.
Anyway, the pain in the ass that is the grocery shopping in Flagstaff can be made up for in Flagstaff's commitment to concerts in the park. Free concerts where you can bring a blanket and a picnic and snack and hide your drinks for hours. There's a concert a week plus extra fun festivals downtown every other week.
For the picnic tonight I'm making tarragon chicken salad, something with leftover goat cheese, and a salad from Food and Wine. Oooh. I just found the Food and Wine salad--Summer Chopped Salad with Quick-pickled vegetables. It calls for 3 oz goat cheese. Done and done. The goat cheese was on sale at New Frontiers so I bought some. Call it serendipity.
One can shop in Flag and find most things, it just takes a trip to three or four stores. If it's summer and you can include the farmer's market, then you can find most good things fresh. I shop at Safeway for Frosted MiniWheats and Fruit Roll Ups, Tillamook Cheese, boneless, skinless chicken thighs and butter, Randall's meat market for steaks and pork chops (he does have good bacon, but no pancetta), the store called the Farmer's Market for almonds and apricots, cheap herbs, tortillas, jalepenos and bell peppers, New Frontiers for fish and organic produce (when in season, it's not astronomically expensive), and the CSA/farmer's market for coffee and eggs and surprising vegetables and fruit.
It takes half my life to shop for groceries. And the Farmer's Market here? I have to say, meh. I bought carrots, melon, tomatoes and somehow spent $20. Talk about half my life. I mean half my paycheck. People call Wholefoods Whole Paycheck. They should call Flagstaff Whole Paycheck except that it's neither funny nor full of pun.
Anyway, the pain in the ass that is the grocery shopping in Flagstaff can be made up for in Flagstaff's commitment to concerts in the park. Free concerts where you can bring a blanket and a picnic and snack and hide your drinks for hours. There's a concert a week plus extra fun festivals downtown every other week.
For the picnic tonight I'm making tarragon chicken salad, something with leftover goat cheese, and a salad from Food and Wine. Oooh. I just found the Food and Wine salad--Summer Chopped Salad with Quick-pickled vegetables. It calls for 3 oz goat cheese. Done and done. The goat cheese was on sale at New Frontiers so I bought some. Call it serendipity.
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