Carrie Snyder | Writer

Too Much Running?

Tuesday, Sep 29, 2009 | Big Thoughts, Music, Running | 2 Comments

Here’s what’s on at our house … the crockpot and the oven. And the television. And the computer. And the baby monitor. This morning, I was browning beef at 7:45. Not, perhaps, the ideal odour to send wafting through the house at that hour; the recipe is for sweet and sour beef. It also has chunks of green pepper, onion, and carrot, and I’ve added a block of tofu, just to ensure no one will like it. You know, it wouldn’t feel like supper if someone wasn’t exclaiming, “Ewww!” I’m also baking brown rice. Have cleaned green beans to be cooked up fresh when we burst through the door after 5 o’clock, having run the music marathon: pick up children early from school, plus neighbour friend, burn carbon across town to piano lessons and early childhood music class. Tonight, I’m adding in a quick trip to the shoe store to buy Albus a pair of non-destroyed runners. He and Apple-Apple are participating in running club at school, and after the first session, last week, Apple-Apple was glowing, she loved it, and Albus said, nope, not much fun. Too much running.
:::
Tell me about it, kid.
But here’s the thing, I’m running, but I feel happy. I’m trying to fit perhaps slightly too much into this raggedy suitcase called Life, but I’d rather do that than the opposite. To everything there is a season. I appreciated the summer season a great deal. It was languid and a bit boring, as perhaps it should have been, because I’m filled with renewed energy.
No time to elaborate; but hope to soon. It’s time to wake a sleeping babe …

“I’m Going to Harry Potter World”

Saturday, Sep 26, 2009 | Birth, Chores, Organizing, Reading, Writing | 2 Comments

I’m writing again. And that means that most spare scraps of the day are poured into that work … and not into, say, doing the dishes, prepping supper, photographing my adorable children, or blogging. Gee, I still dislike that term. But can’t think of a better one.

Saturday, so we arose late, hoping CJ would sleep in (he did, a bit, following a just-before-seven nurse), and that the other children would go downstairs and play together (they did), and that they would FEED themselves. They didn’t. Inevitably, hunger arrived, wasn’t addressed, and led to an argument between Fooey (age four) and Albus (age eight). Over Duplo. Apple-Apple, meantime, has been in the position pictured above since waking this morning, save for a brief breakfast out of bed. It is now almost eleven. She’s reading the Harry Potter series at a rate of about a book per week, and is already on book three. Surely there is poetic justice in me having a daughter who cannot remove herself from a book–I get to understand first-hand how difficult that can be to watch. I fight the urge to jump up and down waving my arms while telling her: look at this wonderful world; don’t you want to go play road hockey with your brother?; wouldn’t you like to chat or something? But she’s lost in this other place. She doesn’t even blink.

“When you’re reading, it’s like you’re almost in another world, isn’t it, Mom? It’s almost like you’re a character in the book. And then when you close the book, the world disappears.”

Yup, like magic. I get it. I hope I’ll get there again, myself. I read all day long, but not in the same way. I skim the newspaper, dash through emails, scan other people’s blogs, troll through recipe books, I read aloud to the kids, process the endless stream of info that arrives in backpacks from school, lie in bed and savour a chapter or two in a personally chosen book before sleep arrives. Much of life revolves around text. Reading isn’t dead. But falling so deeply inside a book … that feels beyond my capacity to manage right now. There isn’t enough room, enough space in the day.

:::

This morning began like most Saturday mornings. I didn’t get downstairs till almost 10, though I’d been up for several hours. I changed the sheets on four out of five beds (couldn’t budge Apple-Apple), put away bales of laundry, tidied. Experience tells me that, when working on a project, it is unwise to move to another section of the house, even for a brief errand, because another project/child/need will suck me in. Last night, Kevin and I spent about two hours, post-supper and post-dishwashing PUTTING AWAY TOYS. We worked in tandem, sorting, organizing, throwing away, moving methodically through drawers and bins and across swathes of strewn carpet. Maybe we have too many toys. Or too many toys with tiny bits. Because we have places to put everything; that’s not the problem. It’s just that everything seems to migrate, up and down, piled into baby buggies and baskets, dumped and dragged, carted and reorganized for the sake of some marvelous imaginary game that it would seem cruel and foolish not to allow. Their methods of cleaning up, though sometimes quite enthusiastically practiced, don’t match up with mine. Albus, for example, would happily organize his room according to his own ideas, and it would look “perfect” to him: there would be multiple piles stacked on dresser tops and in the middle of the floor; there would be a forest of containers, each with three or four items rattling about within. “But I like it this way, Mom!”

:::

Made it downstairs. Have now breakfasted and self-caffeinated. Laundry is on the list, as is vacuuming. Unless I get called to doula at a birth! My friend is due–was due–this Thursday past. Every time the phone rings, Kevin looks at me and I look at him–is this it?

:::

Do any of you have Sigg water bottles? If so, the company is doing a voluntary recall due to tests that showed their old liners were leaching a nasty chemical. This week, we replaced a family’s worth of rather battered bottles for pretty new ones, which have a different liner. Which will leach heaven knows what, but hey. Better than disposable. Blue Skies Yoga and Eco-Store will exchange your bottles, no questions asked. That’s Apple-Apple’s brand-new ladybug bottle behind her in bed. Always hydrate while reading.

Swimmingly

Thursday, Sep 24, 2009 | Music | 0 Comments

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.

Ginger-Garlic Cold-Fighting Brew

Monday, Sep 21, 2009 | Recipes | 2 Comments

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!

Rainy Days

Monday, Sep 21, 2009 | Local Food, Sick | 1 Comment

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.

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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.

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About me

My name is Carrie Snyder. I work in an elementary school library. I’m a fiction writer, reader, editor, dreamer, arts organizer, workshop leader, forever curious. Currently pursuing a certificate in conflict management and mediation. I believe words are powerful, storytelling is healing, and art is for everyone.

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