The End of an Era

There was the year of the skeleton costume!

And the Anakin Skywalker year, with the bat costume.

This year, Nate wants to be David Beckham. And I'm actually feeling bereft, despite the fact that I whine about Halloween costumes all through the month of October every year. "But Nate, don't you just wear your Beckham jersey and some other soccer stuff? That's a BORE!" No, 'cause I'm doing a Mohawk for him. That's all that is required of me this year.

Sara? WILBUR WRIGHT. I kid you not. All that is needed is a jacket, tie and a bowler hat. "Well, and planes, right Sara? You need to fill your suit pockets with paper planes and bombard the other kids during the costume parade." She asked permission to do this, and was denied. Against school rules. Someone could lose and eye, I guess. Or start feeling like they want to join a gang. I explained to her the virtues of apologizing instead of asking permission. I helped her make the planes as well. "Do you want me to get sent to the Principal's office?!?"

Geeze, Sara, if you are going to be sent to the Principal's office once in your life, please let it be for exuberant plane throwing.

More Crazy Cock-Ups in the Kitchen

The weather sucks today! So windy that there were times when I looked out the window and expected to see a chicken coop flying by, a la Wizard of Oz. So much for hiking with Diane! But all is not lost - there's still wine; and Diane had beets from her garden. We decided to play kitchens, while it was Si's job to uncork the lubricant for our talents. Or something. Tonight's menu: Two Potato and Beet Hash with Poached Eggs and Greens. [Ohhhh. Now that I am looking at the recipe again, I see, in small print under the name of the dish, "For tips on poaching eggs, see p. 230." Would that have helped?]; crusty bread; Pear Upside Down Spice Cake.

First, the cake. I make this cake all the time, and I think I have even blogged this recipe, so never mind about how it is made. I'll just say this: it's easy enough that you can chat and drink while making it.

The kids each got a beater. Rubber spatula? Mine! Diane is company, so she got the bowl.

She's such a lady.

Now, down to business on the hash.

Ingredients, for 4 servings:

1 T of EVOO

1 C finely chopped onion

3/4 lb. Yukon gold potatoes, peeled and cubed

3/4 lb. sweet potatoes, peeled and cubed

1T chopped fresh sage

3 garlic cloves, minced

1/2 lb cooked beets

1/2 t salt

1/2 t black pepper

1 T red wine vinegar

4 lg. eggs

First, chop all this shit. Drink while chopping.

1. Heat 1 T oil in a large skillet over medium high heat. Add onion to the pan, saute for 5 minutes or until tender and golden brown. Check.

Add potatoes, 2 t sage and garlic. Here's my sage. Still holding out in the garden.

Cook for 25 minutes or until the potatoes are tender, stirring occasionally. We were roasting the beets in the meantile, so I get those out and peeled them.

I look lke a murderer. It's one of my favorite things about cooking beets. Out! Out damn spot!

OK. Stir in beets, 1/4 T salt, 1/4 t pepper, cook 10 minutes, stirring occasionally.

Still looking good...

2. Poached egg time! OK, I confess, I have never poached an egg. Scrambled, fried, over-easy, hard and soft boiled, yes. Poached, no. So, sue me! It's just never come up! But the instructions were clear, and I followed them.

Add water to a large skillet, filling it two-thirds full. Bring to a boil; reduce heat and simmer. Add 1 T vinegar. Break each egg into a custard sup, and pour gently into the pan.

Look how gentle I'm being! See how the water is slightly tinged from the vinegar, and that we have a good amount of water!

Cook for three minutes, or until desired degree of doneness. Uh... are they supposed to look like that!?! Now, I have to tell you that I went to page bloody 230, and there was no additional wisdom there, except to tell me that poached eggs are tricky. You don't say... Remove eggs from the pan using a slotted spoon. Unless they are kinda stuck to the bottom of the pan...

Still, it plated up beautifully. Look at that!

And the taste testers agree: IT SUCKED! Uneven doneness in the potatoes, messy eggs, and an overall lack of melding in the flavors. Simon did not complain, but just now I saw that he has made a big "X" across the recipe in the magazine. I get the hint, my love. It wasn't apalling, but it is not a keeper. Diane, there are only a few friends that I wold invite over to cook and eat experiments!

But, there's still the cake. God, I love an upside down cake. Just the "voila!" factor. Watch this!

Voila!

Now I just have to clean the egg out of the bottom of the pan.

Friends Don't Let Friends Wear Flip-Flops, I Guess

BTW, do you have any idea how hard it is to take a picture of your own foot? I mean from the side? I almost rammed my heel through my monitor.

Yesterday, I was perishing for a stiff drink by 11 AM. What, only 10 more hours to go?

I started off by calling a student who has been missing school, to ask her to please get her butt back here (in the nicest possible way, of course). After a number of rings, the line picked up, but the only voice was a SCREAMING little baby. Either the kid answered himself or the mother just held the phone on front of the baby's gaping maw. "This'll show that meddling teacher. I'll sic the BABY on her!" Meanwhile, I was calling, "Hola? Bueno? BUEno. Eh, BUENO!! BUUUUEEEENNNNOOOOO? Buenobuenobueno?"

And, I discovered that my carefully planned tutor training workshop was going to be FUBAR. In order for this new routine to work, we need an activity for the students who are displaced when their volunteers come to the training. We have a special class for them, built up around an episode of the Cosby Show. Yeah, I know, we should just buy the season we want instead of ordering it off my Netflix account. However due to budget cuts, the light at the end of the tunnel has been turned off: effective immediately. I was unconcerned until I received, instead of Cosby Show, Wild at Heart, with an e-mail notice explaining that Cosby Show is not currently available, and that Netflix hopes I enjoy Wild at Heart instead. I love Wild at Heart. But would an elderly Vietnamese lady be able to learn much English from it? "I bet you can fuck like a bunny?" Yeah, and don't tell me that Cosby Show is on YouTube. Guadalupe blocks YouTube, just to mess with me and stop me from watching Kevin Federline sing Dick in a Box all day.

And then there were the shoes. I run right before I go to work, so I have to put my work clothes in my gym bag and change in the girls' room when I arrive. I had my cute little outfit with the pink camisole and brown shortie sweater with my brown and pink skirt, and no ...shoes. I looked again. Nope, still no shoes. Ooooh, my Nikes are going to look so HOT with this outfit. Shit. Inspiration! Months ago, B. swiped a colleague's flip flops and hid them. This was an unsuccessful practical joke, since the colleague never even noticed they were gone; and B. forgot about it. I went and checked the hiding place. Still there! Yes! Really dusty, ugly black rubber and, you know how some flip flops make a sexy little snick, snick, snick as you walk along? These go FWOP FWOP FWOP. Lots of smirking. My colleague W. would never be caught dead in ugly shoes at work. Neither would she ever forget to bring shoes. She brought me this pair and gave them to me. Not such a bad day after all. Thanks, W.!

Back From Another Journey

Gosh! According to my Neopod, I have some very persistent buddies out there who kept checking to see if I was ever going to come back. Here I am! XX

OK, a pattern is emerging. Every time I have a mid-life crisis, I disappear. Why not vent right here in my little vent-o-sphere? Beats me! So this time, if you check out my picture, you can see that I cut off my hair; and the scissors slipped and cut off my smile, too. Oh, whoops. I'm happy about the hair. The smile has already grown back. I get tired from these little trips outside myself. They come from a need to go further and do more. Like there isn't plenty to do right here in Cottonwood? Hell, today I played a rollicking game of Simon Says (the traditional version, not the marital version), and engaged in a gender perception analysis of horse movies. Who could ask for more?

I was at home today with Nate and Sara and two other kiddos - their version of Simon Says was driving me nuts:
"OK! OK! Simon Says! Are you ready? Simon - no hold on a sec. Uh... Simon says........[really long pause] Touch your toes!"
"Wait, did you say, Simon Says?"
"Hah! You lose!" Etc...Etc...

Oh, for Pete's sake. I looked up from my work. There are ways to make this game entertaining for [sadistic] grownups.

"All right. Let's get real about this game. Simon says, put our hand on your butt. Simon says, put your other hand on your butt. Simon says, stand on your left foot. Simon says, wiggle your bum. Wait! Did I tell you you could put your foot down? You're out. Simon says, put your finger in your ear. Simon says, put your other finger in your other ear." After, that, I just move my lips, while they go,"Huh? Huh?"

We also went to see Secretariat at the matinee. A leeeeetle bit schmaltzy. OK, REALLY schmaltzy. Complete with scenes of fathers dying of strokes (comforted by daughters who actually manage to reach the fathers' bedsides in time), which made me gouge my nails into my palm. But, I got to sit with the boys on one side of me and the girls on the other, which gave me an interesting perspective. And Sara had Junior Mints. She would insert one of these into my mouth whenever I opened it, baby bird-style. At any rate, from the girls' side, I could hear [sniff, sniff, muffled sob] at the more sentimental bits. From the boys' side, just the sound of fidgeting. Nate told me afterwards that he did not dig that girl movie. I pointed out that it was actually a horse movie. Same thing. Wow. Who knew?

*****
So, back to the issue of getting my groove back. I need to do a few things. I'm compiling a list in my head. It's already well past midnight, so I think I'll commit the list to the eternity of the Web tomorrow.

The Long-Awaited Backpack

I have been lazy about posting. This is partly because it is so stinkin' frustrating to put photos in Blogger; and it's hard to blog when my sweaty arms stick to the vinyl tablecloth; and it's hard to blog when I am preoccupied by work. And I'm not feeling witty at the moment, either. But, here I am, sticky and witless, ready to try to get my groove back.

Finally! After years of waiting until both kids could carry enough weight that we could get into the back country, we managed to pull off a two-night backpacking trip. There was a time when Simon and I had this down to such a science that we knew exactly which piece of gear went into each pocket, how many packets of instant oatmeal we needed and which bungee cord was just the right size for which sleeping bag. We didn't go very far: just three miles to little Wier Lake, which we had to ourselves the whole time. We hiked in and set up a base camp, then spent the second day just goofing off. We hiked out on the third day. Usually Simon and I relocate every day, but this is the way to do it with kids.

Unless you do it this way, of course. We met these guys coming out as we were going in. So, they rented these llamas from...are you ready for this? The Krishna Temple in Spanish Fork. So unlikely on so many fronts: that Spanish Fork has a Krishna Temple; that the Krishna Temple has a llama rental service. Si wondered if there was a llama named Dalai. "No, Honey. That would be rude to the Buddhists." This one was a real ham. As soon as I took out my camera, he walked right up to me and showed my his best side. Now the kids are all for chucking the backpacks and renting llamas.

We had perfect weather, which is miraculous in the Uintas. No moon, either, so the firmament was perfectly complete from horizon to horizon both nights. The Perseid's meteor shower is visible in Utah this week; the experts said that it would not be visible until 3:00-4:00 AM and that any other shooting stars would be "incidental". I beg to differ, as we sat there from 9:30-11:00 PM going "OOOOOH!" and "AHHHHH!" every ten minutes or so as HUGE meteors shot across the sky, often with long, thick tails.

Car camping is fun, especially down in the desert. But I like backpacking better. Less crap=fewer chores. I am perfectly happy with two pairs of undies, two pairs of socks, one shirt, one pair of pants. I have my same little kitchen I have had since college. Simon, though, unbeknownst to me, hauled in a bottle of Cabernet and a couple of these cheesy plastic wine glasses. Then he had the nerve to complain that he was the only one who didn't have room to bring a paperback. Oh, whah. Yeah, we actually had a little reading time, since we didn't move camp. And time to take a hike to some other lakes in the area.

We found this perfect, throne-shaped rock by the bridge at the bottom of Long Lake. If only there had been, like, four of them. At our camp. We just sat on the ground, so we had lustful thoughts about this rock. We also found, stashed in the memory of the GPS, a geocache we had programmed in years ago but never hunted. It was nearby, so we went and found it.

There was even time for a little bit of this!

A New Name

So, the name of the program I work for is VIP, which stands for Voluntary Improvement Program. Who the hell thought of this lame-ass name? Uh, yeah, everyone really is OK with being here. As opposed to that other, involuntary improvement program across town.

I have carried this burden of hate for 18 years. Then a new member of the Board of Directors ventured to call it a little bit strange; and I said that there was nothing I would love more than to change it, if I only could. My boss looked surprised and relieved. "I always thought we couldn't suggest that to you, because you loved the name so much." What?? Are you kidding me?!? How soon can we change it? "As soon as you can think of a new name," she said.

Cool.

Uh....

It's not as easy as it seems.

First of all, let's list some very, VERY overused components: English; Language; Study; Skills; Center; Learning. Here in Salt Lake, you can find the English Language Center, the English Skills Learning Center, the English Language Study Center. So, forget that.

So, how about something metaphorical? You've got your peaks, your horizons, your bridges, your helping hands, and loads of other trite, shopworn names. I know of a program called something like The Blossoming of the Flowers of Learning.

And I have an aversion to acronyms as well.

My colleague, B. had a good idea. Why not just choose a word that we like and build the new name's acronym around that word? Hmmmmm... Of course, the first pleasant word that came to me was EAT. "English... for Adult.... uh..... T. T. English for Adult....T.T.T.T.

B. thought of ACNE. Adult Classes iN English.

I love it! I wonder if my boss will embrace it.

But What About This Delicious Chickpea Fennel Stew I made For You?

OK, so, how big a deal is this, really? It's bugging me! I could use some advice.

Ever since Sara was born 11 years ago, I have made a point to have a Family Supper Table (F! S! T!). I work evenings twice a week, but on every other night of the week, I've made a home-cooked meal from scratch and we've eaten together. I try out one or two new recipes every week, I experiment with unsual ingredients. It has kind of passed as a hobby for a busy working mom who doesn't have time for hobbies.

But now, Nathan wants to play club-level soccer. This means that, in addition to his Tuesday afternoon practice for our little local soccer program, he would also have practices on Monday and Wednesday nights. 6:30-8:00, so he would need to be out the door a little bit after 6:00 PM. If I were a stay-at home mom, I wouldn't have a problem with it. I could get supper on the table by 5:00 or 5:30. But I usually don't walk in the door until that time. We usually eat a little late: maybe 6:30 or 7:00. I just don't see how I can keep up the family meal thing, unless we eat at 8:30 PM, and that's kind of late for me.

I voiced my concern about the loss of two more nights of eating together, but Nathan and Simon are not concerned. They can't believe that I would care about this. I've tried warning them of the dire effects it could have on the family if we don't eat together. The life of crime that awaits Nate if we don't share a hot nutritious meal. How Sara will start having sex f we don't all come together once a day.

How often does your family eat together? How do you make it work? Working moms, how do you get your meals together in time? How do you keep it healthy and not resort of carry-out? Got wisdom?