Thursday, Sep 24, 2009 | Music |
I’m better; have I mentioned that? Garlic-ginger-lemon stew worked its earth-mother magic.
There’s rather too much to do, but Fooey and I have a favourite line we like to sing, from Finding Nemo: “Just keep swimming, swimming, swimming. Just keep swimming, swimming, swimming.” I’m not sure why she latched onto it, but I love it. Just about sums it up, right there, my whole operational philosophy.
Monday, Sep 21, 2009 | Recipes |
Re Michelle’s request, inspired by the post below from earlier this morning, here’s the recipe for my (not at all disgusting, I assure you!) ginger-garlic-lemon drinkable stew. I swear by it.
Combine in a medium-sized saucepan: the juice of one lemon, a good two inches of peeled ginger root, five to ten peeled and crushed cloves of garlic. Cover with water, anywhere between four to eight cups, and simmer for awhile. Pour into a mug with lots of honey, and sip while hot. A sprinkling of cayenne pepper is optional in the original stew. A peppermint tea bag is also optional in your mug. I keep adding water and stewing and sipping all day.
Wishing you health!
Monday, Sep 21, 2009 | Local Food, Sick |
Ah, fluctuation.
From model of efficiency to nasty head cold; though it may not be rational to assume that one caused the other. We’ve been getting very little sleep. First, CJ was teething, then he got the head cold. The cure for both is, apparently (ask him), all-night non-stop nursing. I kept the ball rolling on Saturday, ferrying children to birthday parties, vaccuuming our disgusting living quarters, mopping the kitchen floor (Apple-Apple helped), squeezing in a hair cut (skipped the blow dry, but not the head massage), putting up a bushel of tomatoes, then dashing off to a street party. Sometime that night, during the feeding frenzy, I thought to myself, ugh, sore throat. Yup, by morning, I wasn’t feeling fabulous. Yesterday the gears shifted to low, sputtering. But colds are colds, liveable, doable, managable. There’s no urgent need to put myself to be bed. I’m going to spend a sleepy rainy day with my boys–Albus is also here with us, due to a hacking germ-spreading cough–and I’m thankful I don’t feel worse.
Had a list of smallish bloggish blurbish items I’ve been meaning to cover, but can’t recall them now (of course). Especially because I’m listening to Q on CBC at the same time as I’m typing this, at the same time as CJ is pulling on me yelling, “Hand! Hand!” which means, gimme your hand, mama, I’ve got plans for us. Other vocab he’s come out with in the last day or two: “Wagon,” “bunny,” “rain,” “backpack,” “hot dog,” “wind,” “sit.” And more. We interrupt this post for an extended interlude of puzzle-doing. And the sipping of my home-stewed honey-garlic-ginger-lemon cure-all brew.
Above, a few pics from the kids’ first skate of the season. Kevin has organized an informal neighbourhood skating/hockey time similar to our soccer-in-the-park model. CJ and I skipped out as neither of us have skates. Maybe next time? I want to see this in person.
:::
Oh, just remembered: local food and preparing for winter, that was another item on my list. It feels like we haven’t concentrated on putting food away with the same zeal as last year, and yet I’m pleased with what’s hanging out in our cold cellar, on our shelves, and in our freezers, waiting to cheer us this winter. Last year, we had success storing garlic and potatoes in our cold cellar. We store the potatoes in smallish amounts in paper bags, thoroughly dry, and carefully checked over for any signs of rot. The garlic we store loose on wire shelves. Last year’s onions were a spectacular fail; so never mind this year. I feel like I’m really just experimenting, just dabbling in maintaining a minimum of survival skills as I go about collecting food for winter.
Other bits and bobs we’ve put away recently: roasted red peppers yesterday. Two bushels of tomatoes, frozen or canned, over the past two weekends; likely not enough, but also likely all I’m going to get to. Shredded zucchini for baking.
Thankfully we have a global food system into which to tap. Should it grind to a shuddering halt, good luck to us.
Friday, Sep 18, 2009 | Photos |
The littlest of my daughters has been at school all day today, and I miss her. (I guess I’ve gotten accustomed to the two biggest children being gone all day, every day, which is perhaps a bit sad, too). But I had a writing morning, and it felt good. The work feels once again productive. It helps to have actual assignments with money attached, and deadlines. Earlier this week, I received page proofs for the stories in The New Quarterly, and perhaps just as exciting, saw the mockup for the proposed cover–for which, drum roll please, I’m also the photographer!! Cows on the beach. You can see it, too, in less than a month. Makes me want to go looking for a better quality camera, and acquire some actual post-production skills. If you want to see inspiring photos, take a look at a blog written by an old friend with an amazing eye for beauty; it’s called This Is Glamourous and these photos of Chicago are her own. Tangent. Where was I? Oh yes, scanning page proofs late at night. I’ve also been picking away at an opening chapter for the proposed memoir. My operational goal this fall is to squeeze it all in. The happiest days in recent memory have been filled almost to bursting; yet instead of feeling stressed or worn by the exacting organization, the necessary running from place to place (literally; I wear running shoes for this exact purpose), the occasional laspses (lost my wallet yesterday, only to find it ten frantic minutes later exactly where I’d been looking for it in the first place), I feel energized, enthusiastic. I feel like something valuable can be found in every moment, every interaction, even the ones that appear on the surface entirely unpromising. Waste not, want not. Despite all the hurrying, I am relishing a newfound (rediscovered) patience. Taking time to kneel in the grass with CJ and track the progress of a ladybug. Taking time to feel my feet grounded to this earth.
And now, a little more writing while naptime holds.
Wednesday, Sep 16, 2009 | Mothering, Running |
Kevin cropped these for me: Fooey in her school lineup waiting to go in and start this next chapter in her life. We have now been regaled with stories and memories from that day (yes, it was only yesterday), and she was disappointed not to be heading back with the big kids this morning. “I was happy,” she confided as I hugged her (best hug ever) after that first full day. And I was happy for her! And yet my heart is quietly mourning this passage. Here begins her life apart from us–not a large part of her life, of course, not yet, and oh how proud I am of her confidence, her solid nature; but a part nevertheless. She will survive small struggles all by herself. She will manage. She will test out this larger world. She will discover. She will enjoy. Her mind is so eager to be lit with new experiences, to learn, and she will. I think parenting is renewing this pledge over and over: to let go, to trust our children, and to meet them wherever they are–to be in that present place, for them. At the very moment of her birth, this child occupied her space
without me; even then. It’s just that I still see her at that moment, sometimes; especially when I look at these photos. I still see her as she was.
Do you ever have a day when you feel struck by thankfulness, positively overwhelmed? That was my today. It was ordinary enough, I suppose, but filled with small gifts and reversals of fortune everywhere I turned. For example, after supper, my plans to get together with my siblings fell through so instead I rearranged the girls’ room and the playroom (it all started with an old wooden toy fridge, which we received secondhand years ago, falling over and almost crushing CJ; obviously time to get rid of it, and though it seemed like an insignificant object, its removal precipitated a great upheaval of furniture; CJ was unscathed, I must add). After this satisfying exertion, and having some scheduled “free” mama-away time, I threw on my running shoes and ran and ran and ran and ran around the neighbourhood. It felt transcendent. My breathing was easy, my body removed and full of energy, and my mind calm and meditative; the kind of meditation where you’re not really thinking about anything, your mind feels clear, untroubled. I run so rarely, it hadn’t occurred to me I’d be fit enough to arrive at that place of exercise nirvana. Note to self: get out and do this again! Burst blotchy-faced and sweaty through the door only to discover sibs night was back on and there was still an hour before Kevin was due to leave for hockey. So I got out after all. Cancelled out the run by eating soup, salad AND brie-dripping panini (thanks, sis). Arrived home in time for Kevin to get a ride to the first hockey game of the season with his friends–I literally flagged them down as they were pulling out of our driveway.
Okay, now that I write this all out it doesn’t sound special in the least. Neverthless. I’m glad and grateful and the slow-cooker’s been working well (roasted chicken was fabulous) and Kevin packed the kids’ lunches and and and. Full. I’m too full to sleep.
Or not. Never too anything to sleep.
(Can I confess that I’m almost too superstitious to post this entry; pride goeth before a fall, or, if you always think the worst, you’re more likely to be pleasantly surprised, which is not a real saying. Thankfully.)
Re Michelle’s request, inspired by the post below from earlier this morning, here’s the recipe for my (not at all disgusting, I assure you!) ginger-garlic-lemon drinkable stew. I swear by it.
Ah, fluctuation.
The littlest of my daughters has been at school all day today, and I miss her. (I guess I’ve gotten accustomed to the two biggest children being gone all day, every day, which is perhaps a bit sad, too). But I had a writing morning, and it felt good. The work feels once again productive. It helps to have actual assignments with money attached, and deadlines. Earlier this week, I received page proofs for the stories in The New Quarterly, and perhaps just as exciting, saw the mockup for the proposed cover–for which, drum roll please, I’m also the photographer!! Cows on the beach. You can see it, too, in less than a month. Makes me want to go looking for a better quality camera, and acquire some actual post-production skills. If you want to see inspiring photos, take a look at a blog written by an old friend with an amazing eye for beauty; it’s called This Is Glamourous and these photos of Chicago are her own. Tangent. Where was I? Oh yes, scanning page proofs late at night. I’ve also been picking away at an opening chapter for the proposed memoir. My operational goal this fall is to squeeze it all in. The happiest days in recent memory have been filled almost to bursting; yet instead of feeling stressed or worn by the exacting organization, the necessary running from place to place (literally; I wear running shoes for this exact purpose), the occasional laspses (lost my wallet yesterday, only to find it ten frantic minutes later exactly where I’d been looking for it in the first place), I feel energized, enthusiastic. I feel like something valuable can be found in every moment, every interaction, even the ones that appear on the surface entirely unpromising. Waste not, want not. Despite all the hurrying, I am relishing a newfound (rediscovered) patience. Taking time to kneel in the grass with CJ and track the progress of a ladybug. Taking time to feel my feet grounded to this earth.
Kevin cropped these for me: Fooey in her school lineup waiting to go in and start this next chapter in her life. We have now been regaled with stories and memories from that day (yes, it was only yesterday), and she was disappointed not to be heading back with the big kids this morning. “I was happy,” she confided as I hugged her (best hug ever) after that first full day. And I was happy for her! And yet my heart is quietly mourning this passage. Here begins her life apart from us–not a large part of her life, of course, not yet, and oh how proud I am of her confidence, her solid nature; but a part nevertheless. She will survive small struggles all by herself. She will manage. She will test out this larger world. She will discover. She will enjoy. Her mind is so eager to be lit with new experiences, to learn, and she will. I think parenting is renewing this pledge over and over: to let go, to trust our children, and to meet them wherever they are–to be in that present place, for them. At the very moment of her birth, this child occupied her space without me; even then. It’s just that I still see her at that moment, sometimes; especially when I look at these photos. I still see her as she was.