Soft

I was leaving the library today when a man stopped me in the parking lot.

"Do you live in the area?"

Why, yes, I do.

"Did you loose power today?"

Why, no, I did not.

"The power was out for about four hours just a block from here. It was terrible."

Terrible? Terrible, really? I'm wondering how bad it could be. Perhaps he was in the middle of some do-it-yourself brain surgery when the power failed and he was left with exposed brain matter for the afternoon. I have a hard time imagining the circumstances that could have left someone describing a brief power failure on a day with mild weather as 'terrible'.

To him I would say, Rise up, Man. You are shaped in the very image of God, descended from explorers and adventurers who sailed oceans, crossed prairies and hewed out a living in a wild land. You are the son of men and women who came to a wilderness and created a new nation, climbed mountains and journeyed across deserts and survived long, unforgiving winters. You are the child of a people who risked it all, lit a fire under themselves and went to the moon and back.

Some days I think that we are not as fully human as we were meant to be. No TV or internet for a whole afternoon? That would crush the spirit of most men, I suppose.

Is It Wrong. . .

. . . That at 11 o'clock in the morning I'm thinking that a scotch might be just the thing to take the edge off?

I'm just kidding. Really, I am.

Photo of the Day

I am so embarrassed over how long it has been since I've last posted. I can only blame the baby, so I won't blame anyone at all. However, a quick update on Time-Eating Baby will show that he is now 11 lbs 5 oz. He is three times his birth weight. Can you believe it?

I'm working on a post for the Year in Review. It'll be the next big post, but it's taking some time to work on. There's a fine balance to be struck when writing about highly charged things. I want to talk about how this last year effected me, but I don't want this blog to be an emotional Kleenex, either. I have friends for that sort of thing.

In the meantime, here's a picture of Anna. She was playing Pirate and dug up this old clip-on tie that was in Thomas's room. She proudly clipped it on and said she was "just like Daddy"! That's true. Or it would be, if Daddy were a pirate.

Eureka!

We have an older house with older windows. It's not usually a warm place in the winter with the leaks and drafts that usually accompany an older home. This winter has been feeling a little chillier than usual though.

I finally figured out why our house has been feeling so cold this winter.

Henry and I were sitting in the nursery, rocking and nursing (yea!). I'd been noticing that the baby's room was cold these days. Odd, since it's usually the toastiest room in the house. I could hear the wind bowing outside and I noticed that with each gust the shade and blinds on the window would sway back and forth a little. You don't suppose. . .

Yup. While I was away this summer someone opened the storm window in the nursery, which I don't usually do since the sound of the whistle at the train crossing can be a little loud for a nappy baby. I've been so distracted that it didn't even occur to me to go around shutting the storm windows like I usually do which would have caused me to give the nursery windows a cursory glance at least.

A quick tour of the upstairs revealed an open storm window in our room and the bathroom. I didn't check the windows in Anna's room yet (I'll bet at least one of them is open) since Henry was sleeping by that time. Now I'm going to go around and check the windows downstairs. I'm just hoping that the storm window in Thomas's room are closed since we already put plastic up. The storm windows in his room hardly count anyway, though. Often in the winter you can see tiny drifts of snow blowing in around the edges of them and the wind will blow the curtains inside the room.

Minnesota. God, I love it here.

Mid-Point

So, here I am again at the Mid-Point of pregnancy.  May I introduce you to Baby Number 3?

This baby is about 22-23 weeks along and seems to be doing very well.  I look at this little picture and think that I am incredibly lucky and that I am so happy to be waiting for this wee one to be born.  I'm still nervous about how a third baby will change the dynamics of our family, but I'm feeling more confident that things will be ok after we've adjusted to a new person in our home.

Baby Nuevo looks so peaceful.  The baby's just resting there, playing his or her own games in peace.  I'm listening to the rabble going on upstairs right now and I want to tell him or her to enjoy it while it lasts.  There's little quiet time to be had in THIS house!

We don't know the gender yet--the anticipation builds--but I've still been doing a huge amount of knitting for the Wee Baby.  I have three pairs of soakers (mostly) knit and a pair of Picky Pants waiting for elastic and another pair of Picky Pants on the needles.  I've been trying out Peace Fleece for the first time and I like it a lot.  I wish it had about 25 more yards per skein, but it has enough for me to be satisfied.  I just wish there were a store nearby that sold it.  The shipping on it is considerable.  

I confess I bought a skein of green called Anna's Grasshopper.  When it came in the mail, I saw the name printed on the label and I just about cried.  If I were to have 100 children, would I always feel a little sad for the youngest child as I waited for the next to be born?  Or am I just hopped up on pregnancy hormones to the point where even something like this would make me teary?

I'll leave you with a funny story from this morning.  I went to the clinic this morning to get a shot [boring medical details omitted] and the nurse giving me my shot asked if we were going to be having more children.  I told her that this was our last planned child and she remarked that I was a "baby making machine".  I was so surprised!  I think of the families I know who have 5, 6, 7 or more children and I wanted to say, "Lady, when it comes to baby making, I am totally an underachiever!"  People never stop cracking me up!

Funniest Things

This weekend we went to visit my parents at their hobby farm.  They live on seven acres just outside of a small town.  While they have scaled back their garden quite a bit since my brother and I have grown, it is still sizable and provides most of their vegetables for the year (and a large portion of my family's vegetables as well).  

We spent Father's Day doing things like scrubbing the dirt off of about 18 soaker hoses.  When that particular job was done, I was walking Anna back to the house, past the garden.  She exclaimed, pointing at the newly planted seedlings and sprouting plants, "Look!  They have food sticking out of the ground!"

I'm still laughing to think of it.  How strange the world must seem when you're two years old!

Baby Parrots

So P has been away this week and I have learned so much more about small children! For example, did you know that little kids are just like parrots? After hearing something over and over again they are able to repeat it with absolute clarity! It's true! I learned this today at lunch when Anna stood up in her high chair, waved her graham cracker at me and yelled, "You're driving me nuts! You're making me crrrrrraaaaaazzy! You're driving me nuts!"

At least she was laughing when she said it.

Cooking the Compost

Here's a really useful thing I've learned to do: make my own vegetable broth.

My sister in law, Rachel, has elevated cooking vegetable broth to something like neuro-science with variants that produce beef-like effects or chicken-like effects. She will often caramelize onions, add seasonings, or include extra vegetables to produce some desired, pre-designed result. This is wonderful and admirable. I aspire.

But, bless her understanding heart, Rachel taught me the bare-bones basics of constructing my own homemade vegetable broth. It's so simple that I thought I would share it here with you. Considering that boxed broth runs towards $2.50-$3 a box, it's a skill I find worth having.

When I want to make vegetable broth, I begin weeks in advance, really. Don't let this daunt you, though. I have a gallon size Tupperware container that I keep in the freezer and when I'm cooking dinner I simply throw my compost in this container instead of the compost bucket (with the exception of things like onion skins, which I don't think you're supposed to eat). That's right--carrot peelings, potato peelings, celery ends, squash seeds, old spinach and parsley, leek tops--all the things that I would normally stick in the compost pail I put in the Tupperware container. Gross, I know. But before you get all uppity about it, though, I beg you to consider what the manufacturers are using to construct the broth the store sells. I seriously doubt that they're using fresh, virgin produce unspoilt from the dew-kissed garden. Not for broth, my friend. Kind of makes you wonder what they use for the beef broth, eh?

Anyway, when the gallon container gets full, I start thinking about making my broth. When I'm finally ready to proceed, I pull the container out of the freezer, pull my stock pot out of the cupboard, and I'm ready to go. The frozen vegetable matter gets put in the pot and covered with water. I'll swish some water around the container to loosen any parsley leaves or carrot peels that get stuck. Then I put the big pot o' slop on the stove and bring it to a boil. If you want to add something and make this Work, you can peel and quarter and onion or two and toss it in the stew. Now it's time to cook the compost.

Let the veggies simmer for an hour, covered. Then, put a colander into a large bowl. Dump the pot into the colander to strain out your vegetables. Set the stock pot aside.

I like to put a plate on top of the mash to help me press out any extra liquid before I lift the colander out and hand it off to P to take to the compost bin. Then it's back to the stock pot for your broth. Let the broth simmer, uncovered, for another hour. At this point, I sometimes get fancy with the spices and add some pepper. Then it's off of the stove and into some old mason jars. I got the plastic lids you see in the picture at Wal*mart. I'm not sure if they carry them when it's not canning season, but it's worth a look. I let them cool a bit before putting them in my freezer. And then, ta-da! Homemade vegetable broth.

For the record, I think referring to this process as "cooking the compost" is totally hilarious. This is probably because this is exactly what you are doing when you make this recipe. This may be made even funnier for me, though, because Rachel always seems so affronted by my irreverence towards The Broth. One should not take lightly the making of The Broth, you see. It is Serious Business. One must not meddle with The Broth. I don't have the proper consideration and am really not Worthy. Compost, indeed.

In any case, if you want tips on elevating this to an art form, call Rachel. It is not zen-like, but you will get excellent results. Her French garden approach is the complement to my English garden approach. I may not do it as well, but I get it done. And I love getting that extra bit of use from my vegetables before they head off to the compost heap. Tonight I nearly saluted the colander as it made it's way out the door. Well done, my little veggies. You're little lives were not spent in vain. *sniff*

Have a good night! and Thank You, Rachel!

What Would All the Irony in the World Look Like If You Put It on One Website?

Love him, Hate him, Wish he'd try again in eight years, whatever your opinion is of Barak Obama I think that this will make you smile.

http://barackobamaisyournewbicycle.com/


My favorite is "Barak Obama built you a robot." Because, what if he did? What would that robot be like? I bet that robot would tell me I'm awesome. And that I'm the change I want to see in the world. And that yes, I can. And then that robot would remember my birthday and save me from drowning.