25 Random Things

I just wasted, er spent, a ridiculous amount of time doing this “25 random things” exercise on Facebook (it is actually pretty fun, which is why I did it). You just write twenty-five completely random things about yourself. Decided to post it here, too. I’ve changed one because in the five minutes since I pushed “publish” a better idea came to me.

1. I’m the eldest of five children and the only one with red hair, which I “got” from my great-grandma Ida Snyder. We almost named CJ after her; except he turned out to be a CJ instead.
2. I play piano, some classical, but mostly by ear. I write exceptionally cheesy songs. They always make use of the same four chords.
3. I have a minor in Peace and Conflict Studies.
4. At one point in my life, I was certain I would do a doctorate, but instead became a “terminal masters”; ie. stopped with an MA in English Lit.
5. I played Anne of Green Gables in high school. I taught drama at summer camp.
6. For several years in my early teens, we lived in the country, and I had ponies.
7. I really can’t ice skate, but loved roller skating as a kid.
8. I take up jogging every few months, but never stick with it.
9. I met my husband before we’d heard of email, and therefore have a collection of fat letters he wrote to me that spring. They smell like patchouli.
10. Before children, Kevin and I used to go off-road cycling on ski trails.
11. I was homeschooled for a year and a half: grade eight and part of grade nine. This coincided with the ponies.
12. If Albus had been a girl, he would have been named Lucia. If Apple-Apple had been a boy, she would have been Teddy. If Fooey had been a boy, she would have been Walter. For CJ, see above.
13. I worked as a copy editor at a newspaper; it was my only “real” job.
14. My first job was baling hay, age twelve, on the neighbour’s farm. And picking stones. He paid us $1.50 an hour, and I was over the moon. Honestly, I would have done it for free.
15. I was born in Hamilton, Ontario. My parents are both American. I have dual citizenship, and feel like I should know more of the history of both countries.
16. I’ve lived in Ontario, Germany, Ohio, and Nicaragua, and have visited Spain, Switzerland, Belgium, China, Costa Rica, Panama, Colombia, and Trinidad & Tobago. When I was twenty-one, I drove across the continent with my parents and siblings.
17. My friend Katie, my brother Christian, and I tried to spend the night camping on the barn roof in sleeping bags once. Yes, on top of the roof. Fortunately, we couldn’t fall asleep and decided to come inside. Ditto, the time my brothers and I tried to spend the night in the “treehouse” we’d built out of scrap boards.
18. I used to play a lot of card games. Now I can’t remember any of the rules.
19. I was in the room when my sister Edna was born. We are twelve and a half years apart, and no one ever guesses we’re related when we’re side by side.
20. We moved often when I was growing up, and the longest I’ve lived in one place is here, in the house Kevin and I bought a little over five years ago.
21. I like to walk, in almost any weather.
22. I prefer hanging laundry to dry, and washing dishes by hand.
23. I love cooking from scratch, and baking, but I can’t sew or knit, despite having been taught these skills by grandmothers and various other motherly figures at different points in my life.
24. I was more than two weeks overdue, and my mom spent two days being induced before she went into labour. I’m a Capricorn, but sometimes I wonder.
25. I have a knee-jerk resistence to change, but actually thrive on it.

Word of the Year

Today’s topic … nope, haven’t got one. I’m tired, end-of-the-week drained. Needing to prep for the arrival of guests this evening. Fooey wants me to bake a cake. Bread dough rising. Plus two potential evening outings on the horizon. If I can rally some oomph.

Fooey’s got a friend here and they are playing so sweetly in the room next door. “Neighbour CJ” has joined them, too. I’m supervising by ear.
This week I’ve gotten a bit more writing time; but not enough, and it’s painful to leave chapters mid-telling, with the over-arching narrative hanging there too, just scribbled notes left for myself, for later, which hopefully I’ll be able to interpret. My printing is appalling, a cross between failed cursive script and all-out scrawl, with idiosyncratic short-form thrown in for good measure. Spent one walk to school, post-writing-stint, struggling to delineate and then sear into my memory a series of plot changes and character developments. One kind mentor once told me that the writing will wait for me; mostly I agree and am comforted by that thought, but sometimes I wonder what gets lost. Nothing brilliant; just unique to that moment.
A friend and I have chosen a “word of the year.” We each chose our own, and will focus and reflect on that word for the full year, checking in periodically to evaluate and discuss. I’m excited about this project because it feels manageable–one word! And I love words. And it has the potential to anchor me in a variety of situations. The word I’ve chosen is “imagine.” Or its variation “imagination.” I wanted an active word related to potential change and growth and movement, because my life feels very rooted already, and I want to challenge myself to question and be flexible and aware of the possibilities even within a grounded, locally-lived life. I’m also someone who likes to dream, whether or not these dreams come to fruition, but as a way of exploring and adventuring. And I hope the word will be a reminder that there are always alternative solutions to even the most insignificant conflict, if something isn’t working.

My Children Reflect on President Obama

Conversation (paraphrased) with children on way home from school today re Barack Obama’s inauguration:

Apple-Apple: We cheered for Barack Obama. The lunch-room helpers did a poll about who was glad George Bush got hit in the head with a shoe, and everyone was glad. [note: No teachers were present; the lunch-room helpers are in grade four or five.]
Me: What was this poll?
Apple-Apple: repeats above, approximately.
Me: Huh. Well, no one has thrown a shoe at Barack Obama yet.
Albus: That’s okay. He would stop the shoe with his magical forcefield.
Me: Umm … Barack Obama doesn’t have actual magical powers.
Albus and Apple-Apple: Yes, he does! He has lots of powers. Super-powers.
Me: Well, you’re right, he does have lots of power. But no super-powers. He’s not magical.
Fooey, piping up: That’s because he isn’t real.
Me: Well, he actually is real.
Fooey: No he’s not. He’s on tv!

Recipes; Imagine

Baking with Fooey this morning. Listening to the radio. Turning my back on cynicism and doubt for at least a few hours, because even though the man cannot possibly, even if assisted by miracles, live up to the hype, these moments are rare and can only be celebrated in the moment. That’s why rituals actually matter: punctuation marks in the run-on sentences of life. Change. Hope. Imagine the best.

Now. Two recipes. Both are very good and worth posting. First, the banana muffin recipe that Fooey and I are making this morning; this is a dairy-free recipe, and my guess is it could be made quite successfully with any flour. Second, the hugely successful chickpea recipe which EVERYONE ate and enjoyed last night (the meal made out of the recipe, not the actual recipe, for those of you literal-minded seven-year-olds questioning your mother’s every grammatical slip-up).

Banana Muffins (adapted from Annabel Karmel’s The Toddler CookBook)

Makes 20 large muffins, more or less. Line muffins pans with muffin liners (or grease tins, if you prefer). Preheat oven to 350. Have child squash two ripe bananas in a bowl. In another bowl, have child mix two eggs with 2/3 cup brown sugar, and 1 tsp. vanilla extract. Add mashed bananas and 1/2 cup vegetable oil and mix thoroughly. In another bowl, have child sift 1 and 1/3 cups whole wheat flour, 1 tsp. baking powder, 1 tsp. baking soda, 1/8 tsp. salt, 1/2 tsp. ground cinnamon, and (optional) 1 tbls. unsweetened cocoa powder. Mix dry with wet, and (optional) 1/2 cup or more chocolate chips. Spoon into prepared pans and bake 18 minutes.

Baby CJ just ate and destroyed one of these, and I will post a pic on the blog opposite.

Chickpeas with Pork (adapted from Madhur Jaffrey’s Indian Cooking)

Soak several cups of dried chickpeas overnight. Boil up the next morning, adding salt once the chickpeas have softened (could be hours). In another large cooking pot, fry up 2 lbs pork sausage (or other meat), adding oil if needed. Add and saute: 1 chopped onion, five minced cloves garlic, 2 inches (or so) minced ginger root, 1/2 tsp. ground cardamon, 1 cinnamon stick, 2 bay leaves, 1 tsp. cumin seeds, 1 tbsp ground cumin, 1 tbsp ground coriander, 1 tsp. turmeric. When everything’s nicely sauteed, add 2 cups (or more) canned or fresh or pureed tomatoes; add the chickpeas (the amount can really vary, to taste), and some of their cooking water; add six finely chopped potatoes. Season with 1 tbsp salt, or to taste. Add more chickpea water if needed. Cover and cook till potatoes are soft and flavours combined (25-40 mins). Add 1 cup of frozen peas and cook a couple more minutes. Optional: add 1/2 tsp. cayenne pepper. Serve over rice.

Note: The recipe could easily be made meat-free. Other veggies could be added, too. I apologize for not giving exact measurements for the chickpeas, but I cooked up about five cups (dry), and eyeballed the amount added to the stew.

Seriously, this recipe got unanimously rave reviews. It looks like a lot of spices, but don’t be afraid of the amounts.

And, now, to turn on the tele for a dose of collective joy.

Local Food Round-Up

This week’s theme: Indian spices; curries.

Goal: To use some of those less-popular legumes and pulses now languishing in our pantry. These strange small hard dark chickpeas that never seem to soften, no matter how long I boil them, for example. Kevin purchased several pounds awhile back on the advice of a taxi driver in Thunder Bay (no kidding). And that bag of black-eyed beans.

Meat to be thawed: 2 lbs pork sausage; 4 lbs turkey parts.

To kick off the week, I’m planning red-lentil dahl and rice with peas for supper tonight. Admittedly, that will not diminish our supply of peculiar chickpeas and black-eyed beans … but it’s all about inspiration. I’ve discovered in my Indian Cookbook, by Madhur Jaffrey, some recipes that should fit the bill.

Pork with Chickpeas. Chicken (Turkey) with Tomatoes and Garam Masala. Black-Eyed Beans with Mushrooms. All recipes also call for fresh or canned tomatoes, with which our shelves are laden. In Extending the Table there’s also a cabbage (local) with lentils recipes I’m keen to try. Further recipes making me drool this afternoon are Kusherie, an Egyptian meal of lentils and rice cooked together, served with a cumin-spiced tomato sauce, macaroni, and fried onions. But we’ve run plum out of onions, and must replenish next market trip, so that will have to wait. Another nice plain meal whetting my appetite is Khichri, rice and lentils cooked together with potatoes and some milder spices: cinnamon, cloves.

One final (promise!) Big Thought arising out of last night’s walk: There’s something about being in motion that frees the mind to think reflectively; and, if the motion is shared, to connect. Maybe that’s why road trips on highways seem to have a mythical quality, everyone in the vehicle sharing that forward motion, that journey. Same with walking. Not so with city driving, in which forward motion is constantly thwarted by street lights, stop signs, other cars, pedestrians, et cetera. Being stuck inside a motionless vehicle is frustrating precisely because it feels like we should be moving. It doesn’t matter if we’re wasting mere precious seconds of time; the sensation is of a much larger waste, that sensation of being stalled in perpetuity, in the midst of the journey. Walking somewhere might take more actual time, but because we rarely have to pause for long, and aren’t moving that fast in the first place, we don’t have the same deeply irritating feeling of interruption.

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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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