A Foothill Home Companion

Creating Balance

2012-01-26T14:16:00.000-08:00

From moss gathered on a walk in the rain today

and a rock that's been sitting on my porch for years.

An abstract concept expressed with concrete materials.

The present and the past.

The soft and the hard.

The ephemeral and the everlasting.

I need to make as much as I need to move.

Sometimes the two come together

in a surprising union, beautifully balanced.

Simple

2012-01-23T10:01:00.000-08:00

It's that time of year again. I'm crocheting tiny hearts out of red thread, chaining them together, sending them out in the mail. My own heart garlands are hanging in my kitchen windows, and a few other hearts from friends are hanging here and there around the house, reminding me how much love there is at home and abroad.

Yet I can't ignore the lack of love I see lurking around so many corners. Like all families, we have our share of drama and dirty laundry. There is betrayal, gossip, insensitivity, disloyalty, intolerance, jealousy, spite, unmet expectations, bickering, silence. All is well under my little roof, but under the bigger roof of our collective family, things are not as they should be. And like so many other families, nobody wants to talk about it. I don't want to talk about it either, but I can't stop thinking about it.

Today, I'm calling upon a line from a sermon I heard several years ago:

"The truth is simple, but not simplistic."

I know the pastor was speaking about Jesus and the ultimate sacrifice when he spoke these words, but I took his message and applied it to my most sacred truth: family.

At the time, I was struggling with my choice to stay at home with my children. Most of my mom friends worked outside of the home. They had offices, business cards, nannies, hyphenated names followed by a string of letters and punctuation marks. I had a preschooler, a toddler, and a station wagon. My life was simple, and I was afraid it made me simple, and not in a good way.

The pastor's words put everything into perspective for me. Yes, my truth was simple, yes I had made the simple choice to stay at home, but my life, my decision, was not simplistic. My decision was born out of love.

Love is simple, but far from simplistic. To borrow an all too popular Facebook phrase (at least among my family), "It's complicated". And we complicate it even more when we forget that:

It is simpler to love than to hate.

It is simpler to be honest than to lie.

It is simpler to smile and wave than to intentionally ignore.

It is simpler to remain friends than to unfriend.

It is simpler to be loyal than to go behind one's back.

It is simpler to forgive than to hold a grudge.

It is simpler to show compassion than to be disappointed in someone.

It is simpler to say nothing than to gossip.

Yet none of these actions are simplistic. They require strength and a whole lot of love. Today, I'm summoning both in large amounts. With my tiny crochet hook and thin red thread, I'm creating a stockpile of handmade love, and hoping it works. Perhaps love - and life - is as simple as we make it.

The Mom is Happy.

2012-01-18T15:39:00.000-08:00

Aidan had his first writing class today. Their first project was to draw a picture of their house, exchange their picture with a classmate, and write a short description about the family who lived in the house in the drawing. I nearly cried when Aidan read his description out loud, particularly the sentence, "The mom was happy."

And I am. I just said to George this morning, after he brought me coffee in bed, "I am happy."

It makes me even more happy that my kids notice.

The kids and I have rediscovered the joy of typing on an old typewriter. There's just something about the heaviness of each click, the rolling of the paper, the adorableness of the font. Avery, little techie that she is, figured out how to advance the ink ribbon, which I thought was long used up. I figured out that a typed daily to-do list is not only fun, but more likely to be accomplished.

In an attempt to create space and reduce clutter, I bought a box of extra large, two gallon Ziploc bags to hold our jigsaw puzzles. We cut the picture of the puzzle from the box and put it in the bag with all the pieces. Our stack of puzzles, which once measured over two feet tall and took up a large portion of an armoire, now takes up about a cubic foot of space in our hallway closet. So much less clutter!

You might notice I've added some clutter to my sidebar. We'll see how long it's there before it makes me anxious and I move it, but how else would you know that I'm now using Pinterest and Twitter? It's like I've joined the twenty first century (says the woman who types her to-do list on an old typewriter). I'm trying not to let either website take up too much space in my life, but rather use them as organizing tools: Pinterest as a place to bookmark recipes and decorating ideas, and Twitter as a place to keep - and broadcast - my dinner journal.

Not that I think you actually care what I eat for dinner every night, but who knows? Maybe you'll find some inspiration. Every evening, while the meat is roasting and the veggies are steaming (or vice versa), I'll post my menu in 140 characters or less. One meat + three veggies = A Paleo/Primal four square meal. Follow me if you'd like. It would certainly make me happy.

Fast Fridays

2012-01-13T14:03:00.000-08:00

Every Friday night, all summer long, in our quiet little town, hordes of teenagers (and some not so teenaged enthusiasts) head to the fairgrounds to watch motorcycles speed round and round the racetrack. It's so loud, I can hear it inside my house. They call it Fast Fridays, I call it obnoxious; but I do like the name. I've adopted it for my new ritual of fasting every week, from after dinner on Thursday night until dinner on Friday night.

I've successfully fasted four out of the last five weeks (last Friday I was in an absolute funk, and by 11 a.m., I succumbed to a fritatta). I don't fully understand my need to fast (one of the many ideas I found on a Paleo/Cross Fit website that tickled my fancy, I guess), but I do know that fasting is an important part of exploring my relationship with food. It's not about losing weight or denying myself food; it's about exercising self control and being mindful about what goes in, or doesn't go in, my mouth. (Plus, I like the lightheaded feeling I get after skipping breakfast and lunch, and the euphoric high I feel when it's time to sit down to a carefully planned and prepared meal on Friday night. Tonight, it's Daube de Boeuf, roasted cauliflower, and celery salad.)

My goal is to develop a healthy relationship with food and better understand its role in my life. I know that consuming calories is key to my survival, but I also know that I desire more from food than just nourishment. When I fast, I think about food A LOT, which is both challenging and enlightening. While mentally preparing for today's fast, it occurred to me that I often expect more from food than it can deliver.

Take for example my constant craving for espresso drinks. I resist the urge daily to go to a cafe and order a venti, but when I do give in and gulp down a mocha, I'm inevitably disappointed. It's never as good as I want it to be. Clearly, I expect too much from steamed milk, strong espresso, and powdered chocolate. A few Fridays ago, Avery offered to buy me a peppermint mocha, and because I was fasting, it was easier to say no. But a couple days later, I was back in the same place, finishing a latte, unsatisfied and with four fewer dollars in my wallet. Fasting might not cure my affinity for overpriced, high caloric coffee drinks, but I'm hoping the intentional act of resisting them will help me understand why I want them so much.

Then again, there are times when food delivers all that and more; like last night, when I surprised my kids with a trip to the local fro-yo hot spot, and enjoyed a cup full of artificially flavored and highly processed dairy substance covered in chocolate sprinkles, which my children affectionately call "rat turds". It was a wonderful pre-dinner treat, made even more sweet because my kids were thrilled with my spontaneity and because I knew it would be my last sweet treat for at least 24 hours (and hopefully longer, if I can resist dessert after dinner tonight). Fasting has certainly given me a deeper appreciation for food. Or when it comes to mochas and frozen yogurt, food like substances.

While I'm not advocating fasting for everyone, if you've ever thought about fasting for a day, let me share a few tips:

- If it's cold, wear warm clothes and either crank up the heat or build a fire. When your body isn't generating heat by digesting food, you will get cold. Some light exercise will help warm up your body also. I like to jump rope, preferably in front of the fire, wearing sweats.

- Keep busy to keep your mind off of food. Find a tedious task to fill the time. It's amazing how intently I can focus when I'm not eating. One Friday, I spent well over an hour cleaning out the nasty, food encrusted gap between two planks in my butcher block countertop. Today, I cracked over ten pounds of walnuts (and finished watching season 3 of The United States of Tara; I'm really going to miss that show!).

- Be careful who you talk to (and what you write) when fasting, because you might just share too much in your altered, fasting state of mind. My filter seems to disappear when my mouth isn't busy chewing food. I strongly suspect that I will cringe when I come back here and read this post once I have food in my belly. Did my walnut finally crack? Oh well.

- Don't be alarmed by the lightheadedness you might experience after several missed meals. Enjoy it, go with it - you never know where your head might wander when you lighten the load that food puts on your body.

- Prepare some food ahead of time to feed your family during your fast. The less time you spend in the kitchen, the easier it will be to resist eating.

- Plan a really wonderful meal to break your fast. Cook lots of meat and veggies. Spread a pretty tablecloth and set the table with your good dishes. Light some candles. Put some more wood on the fire. Share your dinner with loved ones. Savor every bite. Eat seconds, even thirds. Don't be surprised if you fall asleep right after dinner. Fasting is exhausting work.

* * *

Dinner will be ready in just over an hour. I can smell the beef now, slowly simmering in a bath of sherry, herbs, and vegetables. I'm sitting in front of the fire, playing Scrabble with the kids - lots of simple, single syllable words. I love Fast Fridays. Perhaps you'll join me next week?

What Gets Me Out of Bed

2012-01-09T08:23:00.001-08:00

Last night: guitars and giggles.

This morning: coffee and dirty dishes.

What gets me out of bed also gets me back to my blog. I've let several weeks slip by without posting or even flickr-ing. I've barely picked up my camera this year. I guess 2012 is not the year I finally commit to a daily photo project. And that's OK.

One of George's and my favorite movies is The Story of Us (it's right up there with Fight Club and 28 Days Later). My favorite scene is when Bruce Willis and Michele Pfeiffer are laying in bed with their two sleeping babies and he says to her, "All that matters is right here in this bed."

That is exactly how I feel right now. Everything that matters is right here - digging in the garden, gathering around the dinner table, rearranging furniture to watch movies, playing guitars, singing loud and off key, reading books at bedtime and again when we wake up, sending silly texts from one room to another. I'm documenting very little of it, but absorbing every moment of it. It's all that matters.

The only resolution I made for this year is to take a step in the direction of my heart's desire every single day. Nine days in and so far, so good. I've cleaned out closets to create space and order. I've planted shrubs and trees to create beauty and shade. I've rearranged rooms to create function and flow. I've scrapped projects and put others on hold to create time and freedom. My heart desires simplicity.

Right now, my son desires breakfast, but before I go, I just wanted to say Hi. And for those of you who have gone Paleo this year, Well Done! I fully intend to return with recipes, but if I don't show up here for a few days or more, now you know what I'm up to. It's all good.

Eat, Drink, and Be . . .

2011-12-23T16:43:00.000-08:00

Ham and Egg Cups (and a Modified Muffin)

2011-12-19T13:43:00.000-08:00

I intended to post this recipe last Friday morning, but after my coffee and before breakfast, I decided to fast for the day, at which point blogging about food seemed even more masochistic than fasting.

Why, you may wonder, did I fast?

Because I wanted to see if I could. I wondered if I had the physical strength to go without food all day, and if I had the emotional and mental strength to resist eating. I took this personal challenge to an extreme when I went grocery shopping at five - yes five - grocery stores the last few hours of my fast.

On the way to Trader Joe's, I didn't think I'd make it without food. As I drove down the highway, my mind raced down every aisle in the store, exploring potential meal options. Pre-packed salad? A package of hot dogs? A wedge of brie? A pound of pecans? None of it sounded good though, and I really wanted to successfully complete my fast.

A few hours and stores later, as the sun was beginning to set and dinner seemed within reaching distance, I started to feel confident. Energized even.

"I'm going to make it," I told the kids, as if they cared. My fast was just another of their mom's strange food experiments.

We finally got home, unloaded bags and bags of groceries, and I started dinner. The leftover kale chips on the counter would have made the perfect appetizer, but I decided to hold out for a real meal to break my fast. Anyways, I wasn't hungry. I was euphoric.

Dinner was delicious. Broccoli soup, baked yams, spicy artisanal sausage, arugula salad, red wine. I thoroughly enjoyed every single bite and sip. I mmmmed and awwwwed throughout the meal, and had to stop myself from repeating Molly Wizenberg's dad: "You know, we eat better at home than most people do in restaurants!"

Then I stood up from the table, laid down on the wood floor in front of the roaring fire, and fell fast asleep. Fast, feast, fire, floor. Best day ever. Can't wait to do it again this coming Friday.

Let's break this fast talk with an easy breakfast recipe.

Ham and Egg Cups

(printable recipe)

6 thin slices of ham (or prosciutto) *

5 eggs

salt and pepper

butter for greasing

Preheat oven to 350. Generously grease cupcake pan with butter. Line each cup with a slice of ham, covering the bottom and sides of the cup with the ham to create a well for the eggs. Beat eggs and season with salt and pepper. Pour egg mixture into ham cups. Bake for 18-20 minutes, or until egg is set. Loosen ham and egg cups by running a knife around the edge, and remove from cupcake pan. Serve warm or cold.

*Trader Joe's carries packages of minimally processed rosemary ham. No nitrates or additives. Super thin slices. $2.99. I highly recommend it.

I've also made these in silicone baking cups, but to tell you the truth, I don't know how I feel about baking in silicone. However, they do pop out of the silicone clean and easy.

My daughter loves to eat her ham and egg cups with ketchup "frosting". They're not just for breakfast either. We've packed them for picnic lunches a few times (once we had to stop at In-n-Out for packets of ketchup). They're quite kid friendly, though if I had my way, I'd add sauteed onions, mushrooms, and spinach for a mini, crustless Quiche Lorraine.

I often make pumpkin muffins when I make ham and egg cups, using this recipe from Elana's Pantry with just a few modifications.

Grain Free, Dairy Free Pumpkin Muffins

(printable recipe)

3 cups almond flour

1/2 teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon baking soda

2 heaping teaspoons pumpkin pie spice

4 tablespoons coconut oil

1/3 cup honey

4 large eggs

2 cups fresh baked or canned pumpkin

Preheat oven to 350. Line or generously grease cupcake pan (recipe makes 18 to 20 muffins). Sift dry ingredients together. Mix the rest of the ingredients in the Cuisinart (or by hand in a large mixing bowl), then add dry ingredients to pumpkin mixture and mix until incorporated. Scoop batter into prepared cupcake pan, filling each cup 2/3 full. Bake for 40 to 45 minutes.

If you can resist eating them hot out of the oven, slathered with butter, cool the muffins and store in a covered container in the refrigerator. They get even better after a day or two.

Enjoy!

Two Winners, Two Truths, a Few Answers, and a Shout-Out

2011-12-14T14:26:00.000-08:00

As usual, I'm a day late announcing give-away winners, so without further ado . . .

Congratulations Grace and Sherrie!

(I've got your email Sherrie, but not yours Grace. Will you email me? mollydunham at sbcglobal dot net)

No baby news from Annie yet, but she's got a fat stack of cloth diapers ready and waiting.

I discovered two truths yesterday while dining (at separate tables) with one tween and one teen:

1. Being embarrassed by one's parents is inevitable.

2. We all turn into our mothers eventually.

Sad but true.

Did you know that kids (and moms who eat kid's meals) eat free at Ikea on Tuesdays? Not that I recommend eating at Ikea. It wasn't bad, but it certainly wasn't Paleo friendly.

Some of you asked what we eat on our Paleo diet, so I thought I'd take this opportunity to respond to a few comments from previous posts.

What's on our daily menu?

Meat, vegetables, vegetables, vegetables, eggs, nuts, fruit (more for the kids, less for me and George). Did I mention vegetables?

For breakfast, I make sausage and vegetable frittatas, almond meal pancakes, ham and egg cups, sausage and cabbage, and sometimes we eat leftovers. Soup for breakfast is a great way to warm up on a cold morning. If we're in a rush, I eat a bowl of plain yogurt topped with grainless granola, or if we're out of granola, I'll top it with sliced banana, coconut flakes, and slivered almonds. One of my favorite things to eat for breakfast (or any meal!) is a baked sweet potato slathered with butter and a little cinnamon.

For lunch, I make George a large salad to take to work, topped with roasted vegetables, sliced meat, salsa, and guacamole. The kids and I often eat leftovers, and at least once a week I make a pot of soup which lasts for several days. When Aidan isn't interested in what I'm serving, I make him a plate of sliced meat, avocado, carrot sticks, some nuts and cheese, and a piece of fruit.

For dinner, I found a formula in a comment on Mark's Daily Apple which has proved invaluable: one meat plus three veggies. I plan and shop for a week's worth of dinners at a time following this formula. Here's a sample of some recent dinners:

Braciole, spaghetti squash, sauteed carrots and broccoli, arugula salad

Pork chops, braised cabbage, garlicky carrots, green salad with lemon dill dressing

Chicken Cordon Bleu (modified for Paleo), roasted butternut squash, arugula and pear salad

Shredded pork tacos served in lettuce wraps, grilled veggies, guacamole, salsa, roasted broccoli

Italian sausage meatballs in marinara sauce, sauteed zucchini, mushrooms and onions, spinach salad

Yes, it's a lot of food and a lot of cooking every night, but it's such good eating! My husband no longer wants to go out for dinner, and I'm just as happy staying home and cooking. And I always look forward to leftovers for lunch. (I'll be posting recipes in the coming days for many of these dishes.)

Do we eat any dairy products?

Some, but not much, and less every day. Aidan likes to drink milk. Sometimes he adds a little vanilla and stevia to it for a sweet treat. We all enjoy yogurt on occasion. We use cheese sparingly in certain dishes, but I find myself omitting it quite often. I no longer put parmesan cheese in my lemon dill dressing and no one has noticed the difference (Avery just read this over my shoulder and said, "WHAT??? You didn't put parmesan in the salad dressing?").

I switched to coconut milk in my coffee (yum!), and I've started making almond and hazelnut milk again using my Soyabella. We occasionally indulge with whipped cream and sliced fruit for dessert. Avery loves to make whipped cream using our hand held blender with the whisk attachment. She flavors it with vanilla and sweetens it with either maple syrup or stevia powder, though I prefer it unsweetened. Sometimes we really indulge and buy ice cream, but only once or twice a month.

Are we depriving ourselves?

I've asked myself this question many times. Initially, the Paleo diet did seem like a deprivation diet. The list of things not to eat was so much longer on the list of things to eat. Yet I love the simplicity of the short list of "yes" foods, and I soon realized that all of the "no" foods were depriving me of the body, health, and energy I wanted. Eating "yes" foods (meat, veggies, nuts, eggs, healthy fats, fruit) gave me the power to say no to the "no" foods (grain, sugar, and unhealthy fats and oils).

Was it hard for the kids to transition to Paleo?

Hell yes. They were resistant. They whined and cried and begged for pasta and bread and cereal and tortillas. So we took it slow, gradually weaning them off of their former staples. Just as "yes" foods give me the power to say no to myself, they also give me the power to say no to the kids.

"Can I get a cookie at the store?"

"No, but we can find a recipe for a Paleo treat when we get home."

I include them in my meal planning, I give them options at breakfast and lunch, and I figure they're not really hungry if they don't eat what I serve for dinner. Having three vegetables on the table means they'll eat at least one of them. Surprisingly, they've discovered they actually don't hate a lot of foods they thought they hated. If anything, the Paleo diet has broadened their food horizons.

Another word which came up in several comments was Intuition. Intuition is exactly what brought me to the Paleo diet. I believe my body knew I needed more meat and veggies before my brain knew it. Getting rid of grain and sugar has allowed all of us to listen more closely to what our bodies are telling us to eat. I can't think of a better way to describe it than biofeedback. If we don't feel good after we eat a certain food, we eliminate that food from our diet. If we're craving a particular "yes" food, we eat more of it.

A few weeks ago I was craving full fat coconut milk, so for several days in a row, I mixed it with some frozen mango and shredded coconut and thoroughly enjoyed a creamy dose of healthy fat. My husband was experiencing a late afternoon crash most weekdays so I started packing him extra food to snack on. He eventually realized that the crash wasn't related to needing more food but was a response to the daily sugary treat he'd eat on the job. He stopped eating candy or cookies when they were offered and he started feeling better immediately.

For me, intuition is bound to my faith that my body knows what it needs, and I just need to listen closely. The positive changes I've seen in myself and my family strengthens my faith to continue on this path and reaffirms that it's the right way for us right now.

Whether you're interested in Paleo or not, I think you'll enjoy the recipes I'll be posting over the next few days. They're simple, nutritious and whole. Real food. Clean food. Good food. I need a place to keep them so I can find them when I need them, and this is a safe, convenient place. Much better than the scraps of paper with scribbled recipes cluttering my kitchen counter.

Finally, a shout out to a very talented friend who sent me a little something I love to wear:

I love my new ring from AG Ambroult. Thank you Amy!

Amy has some wonderfully elemental, hand crafted pieces in her Etsy shop. Avery has her eye on a leather and sterling wrap bracelet, just in case you're wondering what eleven year old girls who are embarrassed by their mothers are interested in these days.

Stay tuned for ham and egg cups.

Alphabet Glue Volume Four Giveaway!

2011-12-09T11:21:00.000-08:00

I don't know how she does it. Mother to one with another on the way any day, teacher, student, blogger, and creator of an e-zine. And that's just what I know she does. I'm sure she does a million jobs behind the scene too. She's kind and generous to boot.

Annie of Bird and Little Bird has a fantastic winter edition of Alphabet Glue up and ready for download. It's full of book lists, story telling ideas, penguins, and winter crafts, and it's just in time for winter break.

We'll definitely be making these Salt Sparkle Snowflakes, especially since we rarely see the real thing here in California. Perhaps we'll finally crack open our copy of Mr. Popper's Penguins, and the kids can fold some origami penguins while I read aloud.

Annie has generously offered to give away two copies of the fourth edition of Alphabet Glue, plus the the first three editions. All four issues of Alphabet Glue in one easy download! This is a fantastic resource for families who love books and crafts. Just this week, Avery went back to Volume 3 for the directions to make a fabric covered journal.

Get your copy of Alphabet Glue Volume 4 for just $4 here. Or, put your name in the hat to win a bundle of all four issues of Alphabet Glue. I will select two random winners to be announced Tuesday, December 13. Annie is due any day, so let's leave her some encouraging comments!

And if I could tickle your ear about one more project I'm excited about today . . .

I made a pledge to help kickstart the {r}evolution, and I absolutely can't wait to get my own Versalette. Thank you Maya for spreading the word and suggesting a way we can help fund a fledgeling conscientious business and treat ourselves to a kickin' one piece wardrobe.

Upside Down

2011-12-06T09:12:00.000-08:00

I hesitate to share this photo, yet somehow I feel compelled to put it out there. Avery took it a few weeks ago, back when our maple tree still had leaves. It's a little blurry, and a part of my body I normally keep covered is quite bare, but this picture has taken on a new meaning for me recently.

Whether hanging by my knees from a tree or practicing handstands (I actually googled a tutorial!), I have become fascinated with turning my body upside down. It occurred to me this morning that my body understood this metaphor before my brain did: I've turned my life upside down and now I feel right side up.

Everything I once believed about nutrition I've washed down the drain. My definition of food has been completely rewritten (along with most of my recipes). My refrigerator and pantry have been cleared, cleaned, and restocked. Our meals and snacks have been transformed 180 degrees. As a result, I got skinny, my husband stopped needing pain killers, my daughter's tummy troubles went away, and we're all much nicer and happier than we used to be. To paraphrase my son, our new diet has revealed our true selves.

Who knew that such profound changes could occur by simply changing what we put in our mouths? I firmly believe in the saying "you are what you eat", and I'm also convinced that the food we choose to eat feeds not just our body but also our spirit. Just think of the role food plays in religion: forbidden foods or food combinations, fasting for holy days, symbolic foods used in religious ceremonies. Food is so much more than the sum of it's calories.

Procuring and preparing food for my family is my sacred responsibility. Gathering around the table to eat as a family is a sacred occasion. Feeding others conveys a sacred message of love. Even washing the dishes, while not a sacred or beloved act, is a sacred time during which I meditate, letting my mind wander as my hands complete a task requiring little to no thought. My body is a sacred vessel, and caring for it with food and movement is my sacred duty.

Perhaps the picture above is me bearing my soul, expressing my beliefs. This morning I received an email from a friend who said the tone of my recent posts is that of a convert. I couldn't agree more. Would it be going too far to say I feel reborn? Perhaps, but that is exactly how I feel. After all, we enter this world head down and feet up - put your hands over your head and you've got a handstand.

I've reached a new level of clarity in my life and it has everything to do with what's on my plate (and yes, I mean that literally and figuratively). I don't take food lightly. Yet I fully appreciate that what's on my plate might not suit your taste. I don't want to sound like a preachy zealot about eating meat and vegetables and abstaining from sugar and grain. Just because it's worked for me doesn't mean it's the right way or the only way. I don't believe in a one size fits all diet. I believe in freedom of religion and nutrition.

My intention is to encourage and inspire you on your own path to health and well being, both physical and spiritual. Just as my body is compelled to hang on tree limbs and practice handstands, my fingers are compelled to type about diet and exercise. I can't help but share this new found passion of mine. I want you to feel good and be happy in your own skin, right side up or upside down. You can dish up or pass the plate, follow the recipe or adapt it to your taste. The most important ingredients are not in the grocery store or refrigerator, the garden or the pantry. They're inside of you: power, intention, love, faith. You've got a full cupboard in your soul. Open it up and get cooking.

Consumed

2011-12-01T12:13:00.000-08:00

I've been consumed for the past two weeks.

First with planning a Thanksgiving dinner for twenty,

then with recovering from such a large party,

but mostly with sugar.

There are foods we eat which give us power, then there are foods we eat which zap our power. Think Pac-Man: go for the big dots, avoid the ghosts. Sugar is a ghost, a haunted little power zapper. The more you eat, the more you want, the less power you have - both physical power and the power to resist eating more.

Since going Paleo, I've had no trouble resisting grains. I don't miss oatmeal or rice or pasta, and though I almost gave in to bread and butter on Thanksgiving, I was able to resist. My plate was full of turkey and veggies: power food. But the morning after, when I opened the refrigerator to get cream for my coffee, I could not resist a slice of nut pie, and then another. And when the pie was gone, I couldn't walk away from the bowl of almond brittle sitting on the counter. Don't even get me started on the pecan pumpkin cheesecake my neighbor brought over, which I washed down with a little something I like to call "apple pie in a glass": apple syrup, brandy, cinnamon, water, and ice. That was the climax of my power failure.

I spent the rest of the day in a funk. Not only did I lack the energy to get up and do anything, I was also consumed by a particular negative event which transpired at Thanksgiving. Rather than focusing on the 95% who enjoyed the evening, I was fixated on the 5% who left my house on a sour note. While I can't blame sugar for the unfortnate event, I'm tempted to blame sugar for my response to it. Sugar free Molly has better perspective and can see beyond the bumps in the road.

So I cleaned up my diet, got rid of the sugar, and all was well for a few days. Until the peppermint mocha incident. I sacrificed my power - and suffered a horrible night's sleep followed by an all day headache - for a cup of inferior milk, chocolate powder, and artificial mint syrup.

Why do we willingly chase down these sugary ghosts only to suffer at their hands? Yes, they taste good. But sugar free power feels so much better! I write this because we're on the eve of a sticky sweet season full of sugary indulgence. There will be cakes and cookies and chocolate covered nuts and minty confections. We will be tempted to give and receive such goodies as tokens of appreciation and symbols of affection, but at what price? Will we really enjoy the season if we're running on low or no power, living hand to mouth between sugar injections?

It's not just about the carbohydrates and calories. It's about exercising our personal power to make good decisions. It's about a holistic approach to our well being. Being powerful and feeling well are gifts we can give ourselves and others. May your plate runneth over with power food so you can energetically enjoy the month ahead, and if you run into an evil sugary ghost, turn around and sprint away. They'll consume you if you let them, nasty little suckers.

Grain Free Granola

2011-11-21T09:16:00.000-08:00

Or "bird seed" as my brother called it. He and I grew up on cereal for breakfast, mainly Honey Nut Cheerios. It seemed only natural that I would continue the tradition with my kids, right? So I stocked my pantry with Honey Bunches of Oats. I thought I was doing my kids right serving up wholesome whole grain. Who knew? Now I know better. No grain, no pain. (For more information, read this.)

But cereal for breakfast is a hard habit to kick, and shortly after eliminating grain from our diet, I knew I needed a replacement for those granola clusters we had learned to know and love. I googled "paleo granola" and spliced a few recipes together to find the right combination of crunch, texture, and sweetness. It's perfect on top of plain yogurt or with some raw milk (if you do dairy), nut milk, or coconut milk. I've even put it on top of mashed sweet potatoes. Much better than marshmallows.

Grain Free Granola

2 cups sliced almonds

1 cup each sunflower seeds and pumpkin seeds (raw and unsalted)

3/4 cup each unsweetened coconut and raisins

1/2 cup each sesame seeds and ground flax meal

1/4 cup each honey and butter or coconut oil

1 teaspoon vanilla (optional)

1/4 teaspoon almond extract (optional)

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. In a large bowl, combine nuts, seeds, flax meal, coconut and raisins. In a small saucepan, combine butter and honey and heat until melted. Add vanilla and almond extract to the butter and honey, and pour over the rest of the ingredients. Mix well. Spread granola onto a large baking sheet and cook for 30 minutes. Let the granola cool, then break into small clusters. Store in an airtight container for up to a week.

Enjoy!

The Skinny

2011-11-11T08:05:00.000-08:00

I had no intention of exposing my bare midriff here for three weeks,

but life has been a little busy.

We hosted two parties in one day

then jumped in the car and drove to Oregon

where we all got sick

and couldn't wait to come home

so we could crash for a week and recover.

The good news is that the head cold

on top of the stomach flu

which triggered a migraine

and sent me to the ER

for two bags of IV fluid and a wicked drug cocktail

helped me reach my weight loss goal.

Hip, hip, hooray for

diet, exercise, and viruses

homecooking, housework, and life.

Either way

I'm feeling much better

and looking better than ever.

Aidan told me that I'm fitting into my body

and I couldn't agree more.

I just wish I could find a pair of jeans that fit as well as my skin

and time to post more about our paleo experiment.

But to be honest, I'd rather wear running pants

and sprint around my neighborhood,

then repeat a few rounds of squats, crunches, and push-ups

before heading back to the kitchen

to cook some meat and vegetables.

That's the skinny.

Improvements

2011-10-21T09:51:00.000-07:00

Our house is nearly 60 years old, and if I may say so myself, it's never looked better. Of course, we've put a lot of work into it, and we still have a long list of improvements we need to make, and an even longer list of routine maintenance to be completed. I wonder whether we will ever be able to say our house is "done". However, I intend to do everything in my power to ensure our house improves with age.

I fully intend the same for myself as well, but a month after my 35th birthday, I realized my plans for self improvement were failing. My personal structure needed more than spackle and caulk - a complete overhaul was in order. But where to start?

Fortunately, my friend Amy wrote a post that jumpstarted my personal renovation. Here's an excerpt that hit me over the head like a 2x4 stud:

"Health is our birthright. How different people experience health is up to them. It is not our birthright to gain two pounds a year for the rest of our lives, manage our stress and fatigue with caffeine and alcohol, and reach for a prescription when we experience discomfort or pain. But many of us have determined, to varying degrees, that that is our right. (I'm not exempt here. Did you see how big my coffee mug was this morning?). By virtue of failing to grasp our birthright, we have, in essence, stepped up to a plate where we are never asked to swing. When I am feeling less than vibrant in my health and life, it is ultimately because I am failing to take responsibility for some part of my life. I am choosing to squander sleep in favor of reading, or (fill in the blank.. drink too much, eat too much sugar, not watch my words with my children), you get the idea."

Until I read these words, I had never considered my own birthright. The term "birthright" was a phrase that had nothing to do with me, just an antiquated word I'd read in the Old Testament, right alongside "begat". I'd never given much thought to my inherent rights, never considered "health" a right to which I was entitled from birth.

Instead, I focused on and feared the opposite of health; my inheritance:

High blood pressure
High cholesterol
Arthritis
Breast cancer
Fear of wearing a sleeveless blouse in public
Type 2 Diabetes
Hips and knees in need of replacement
Multiple chins
A portion of the kitchen dedicated to prescription bottles

Hell no! This is not what I wish to inherit, nor pass on to my children. Fortunately, I firmly believe that I have a certain degree of control over my health, and that I don't have to accept what I consider avoidable afflictions. While I can't dismantle and reassemble my genetic makeup, I can grasp my birthright, step up to the plate, and swing for my health.

So seven weeks ago, I did just that. I stopped eating all grains and refined sugar, I stopped drinking alcohol on a regular basis, I stopped making excuses when it came to exercise, and lo and behold,

I lost 11 pounds. I rediscovered my waist, my biceps, and strength I didn't know I possessed. I feel more alive than I have ever felt. My extra chin has started to shrink, and my muscles shout, "move, move, move!" from the moment I wake up. The shorts that were in the giveaway pile because they were too tight are now falling off of me. If I may say so myself, I've never looked better. And I'm certainly not "done". I'm just getting started.

I can't say it's been easy, but it has been simple. Diet and exercise. Diet and exercise. Diet and exercise. But I'd like to replace those two words to reflect my experience: Home cooking and housework. I've thoroughly enjoyed discovering and creating a variety of new recipes using vegetables and meat (with the occasional egg, fruit, and nut). As for exercise, I haven't joined a gym or bought any fitness apparatus. Instead, I've found opportunities in and around my house to workout: push-ups, crunches, and challenging yoga positions on the area rug; pull ups on a tree limb; hauling wheelbarrows full of dirt and rocks from one part of the yard to another; squats and frog jumps around the perimeter of the house; a full routine of arm exercises using a digging bar; jump roping on the back patio; walking and running around our neighborhood. Simple and free. Much like my birthright.

While I'm tempted to start a new blog called "Better with Bacon", and write about nothing but the Paleo diet and Crossfit exercise, I'm going to just squeeze in tips and recipes here and there between my regular (or irregular) posts, beginning with a paleo friendly breakfast recipe to start your day off right. This frittata was inspired by one of my favorite recipes from Better Homes and Gardens for an oven pancake with sausage and pears. It's so delicious, I don't even miss the pancake part.

Sausage, Apple and Onion Frittata

1 small sweet onion, cut into slivers
1 apple, chopped
2 links of chicken apple sausage, cut into bite sized pieces
4 eggs
Splash of milk (optional)
Pat of butter (or ghee, olive or coconut oil)

Melt butter or oil in a non-stick frying pan over medium heat. Add onion and saute until onion just begins to caramelize. Add sausage and apple, stirring occasionally until hot. In a mixing bowl, beat eggs and milk, then pour egg mixture over the sausage, apples and onions. Cook on medium low heat until egg sets on the bottom and edge of the pan. Transfer to oven and broil until the egg sets on top. Cut into wedges and serve warm.

Oh, Life

2011-10-12T11:43:00.000-07:00

It's not all dirty feet and good books here in the foothills.

Sometimes it's broken ladders and ambulance rides and staples in the back of the head (George is OK now).

It's projects that take longer and cost more than we expected.

It's rain on our field trip day and a boy who is not kind and hospitable to house guests.

It's eating what we know we shouldn't because we're in a rush and paying the price later.

It's driving out of our way and wasting the better part of a day to save a hundred bucks.

It's a car that needs a part from the other side of the country.

It's a lifestyle change that has consumed all my time and energy, as well as pounds of fat I didn't even know I needed to shed.

It's a closet full of clothes that no longer fit and no desire (or time or money) to buy new clothes.

It's unexpected, like so many things in life. Oh, life.

But the show must go on, and the winners of the Alphabet Glue giveaway must be announced!

Rosesmama

Vanessa at Rescued Goods

Liz S.

The Blog Savant

Anna (annabeecroft)

Email me (if I haven't already emailed you) and Annie will forward you your copy of Alphabet Glue.

You can buy Alphabet Glue Volume 3 here. Thank you Annie for creating Alphabet Glue and generously giving away five copies!

. . . . . . . .

As for the mention in my last post regarding the death of blogs, I certainly did not intend to perpetuate any false rumors. Blogs are alive and well in my my opinion, though I have to admit I pay a lot less attention to them than I used to. It's not that I don't want to read the blogs I love and discover new ones to love, it's just that my focus is shifting more and more away from the computer.

Ironically, I feel the act of blogging and reading blogs has led me to this shift. Reading the words of like minded women and catching glimpses into the lives of other families has inspired so many changes in my own family. The last five years has been a journey towards simple living, being present in the moment, pursuing new hobbies and interests, cultivating our little homestead, and creating the life we desire. It can be difficult to be fully present in my own life while trying to keep up with the lives of others, even if they're on a similar journey.

Therefore, I read blogs in small doses. A few here and there, sometimes none at all for days on end, and occasionally I gorge until my eyes cross or my computer freezes. Reading your comments on my last post, I realized that I may be contributing to the potential decline in blogs (again, an unsubstantiated rumor) by altering my own blogging habits.

At times I have felt guilty and hypocritical for not reading blogs, but hoping my blog gets read. Yet I've come to the conclusion that I blog for myself, and while I thoroughly enjoy receiving visitors and comments, I maintain this space for me. It's like having a room that's all mine to fill up and use as I see fit; a real luxury when you share a small house with a growing family. Sometimes I even imagine this blog as a safety deposit box where I store my memories for a day when my internal memory fails me. Or perhaps a data mine for future historians and anthropologists who want to know what life was like for an average American family in the early 21st century, or even a future descendant who's researching our family's genealogy.

Not that any of this really matters, it's just a topic I find interesting. Maybe you do too, so feel free to share your thoughts on blogging. Your ideas are a welcome addition to this space. Together we keep this blog alive.

Alphabet Glue Volume Three Giveaway!

2011-10-03T16:28:00.000-07:00

I have to admit, I have a thing for this boy's feet. I love everything about them. Even the dirt. A tidier mother might have told him to get his dirty feet off the table and go wash them, but me? I grabbed my camera. Anyways, I'd rather wash the tablecloth (which needs regular washing anyways) than interrupt a reading boy.

He and his sister fought over who got to read the book first. It usually drives me up the wall when they fight, but I was grinning ear to ear over this particular sibling conflict. The book worth battling for: I Survived the Shark Attacks of 1916 by Lauren Tarshis.

My kids love the "I Survived" books, and I'm wondering, why didn't I think of writing these books? I'm no Lauren Tarshis, of course, but I can imagine that writing first person narratives of historical events for kids would be an intriguing writing project. As a homeschooling mom, I'm thrilled that my kids are getting a big dose of Social Studies and Reading in the same gulp.

If you're the type of mom who gets excited about children's books and children who read, you're probably already a fan of the e-zine, Alphabet Glue. Annie has created another wonderful copy of her magazine "for kids who love books (and their grown-ups)" (love her tag line).

Volume 3 of Alphabet Glue is packed with inspiring book lists, story maps, handmade book tutorials, story starters, and a mathematical story chart (for the homeschooling mom who loves an activity which encompasses Literature and Math at the same time!).

Annie has generously offered to giveaway five copies of Alphabet Glue Volume 3 to readers of A Foothill Home Companion. Lucky you! (And lucky me that you're here reading my blog! Word on the street is that blogs are dying in the shadow of Facebook and Twitter. Tell me it isn't so!)

To enter the drawing, leave a comment with one of your family's favorite book related activities or projects. We'd love to hear how you make reading come alive and extend beyond the binding of the book.

And don't worry about this blog dying. I'm old school. You can have your Facebook and Twitter. I'll hang on to my wordy, picture filled, sporadic blog posts.

P.S. For more pictures and less words, you can find me over on Habit this month.

Pancakes for Amy

2011-09-30T10:48:00.000-07:00

It's hard to take a decent picture of hot pancakes when your children are hungry. The focus is off, but the recipe is right on. I've tweaked it a few times this past week, and the kids have declared it a keeper. If they had their way, we'd eat these pancakes every day for breakfast, lunch and dinner. And if I had more chickens keeping me supplied with eggs, I'd be OK with their choice of menu, because these pancakes are packed with protein and easy on carbs.

Thanks to my friend Amy, every meal we've eaten the past month has been packed with protein and easy on carbs. Inspired by her new blog, Meaty Bohemian, I've transformed our family's diet, and in the process, transformed my whole life. Sounds a bit dramatic, right? But it's true.

Just over a month ago, I found myself at a crossroads. I was down in the dump about my aging body, and I knew I needed to make a big change and fast. Amy came to my rescue without even knowing it!

I want to tell you more about it, but for now I'm just going to share a recipe, a recipe I hope Amy will love as much as I love the roasted broccoli recipe she shared earlier this week (I've made it twice in the last three days).

Apple Almond Pancakes

(Grain free, high protein, Paleo diet friendly, inspired by Mark's Daily Apple)

3 eggs, beaten

1 cup almond meal

1/4 cup no sugar added applesauce (optional, but really moistens pancakes)

1 apple, chopped

1/4 teaspoon baking soda

1/4 teaspoon vanilla extract

1/4 teaspoon cinnamon

Mix all ingredients in a small mixing bowl. Scoop about 1/4 cup batter on a hot, buttered griddle (keep pancakes small for better cohesion). Cook for a few minutes, until light brown on the bottom. Flip pancakes and cook for a few more minutes. Makes 8-10 silver dollar sized pancakes.

Serve with a little whipped cream, if desired. We like to make a small batch of whipped cream using 2/3 cup heavy whipping cream and 1 teaspoon maple syrup. This way a little sweetness goes a long way.

P.S. Come back for a little giveaway on Monday!

There

2011-09-21T17:10:00.000-07:00

There is a small piece of blue painter's tape stuck to my mantle. On this tape is one word written in cursive: Home. It is the only blue thing in the room. It's a focal point when you walk in the front door. Almost an eyesore, really. But I don't have the heart to peel it off. Every time I see it, I remember Aidan saying, quite enthusiastically, "Thank you Mom for teaching me cursive!"

There is a foundation in our backyard for a shed that I'm pretty sure will dramatically change our life. Well, at least it will change the way we organize our stuff. There are hours of work left before we finish building the shed, but I look forward to the weekends of work ahead of us. I am happiest when immersed in a project, especially with George. We work so well together (we don't relax very well together, which is probably why we're always creating new projects).

There have been several occasions recently when Avery and I have been mistaken for one another. Not just on the phone, but in person. Once by George. I'm incredibly flattered, though I'm sure Avery does not feel the same. The confusion won't last long; she'll likely outgrow me within the next few months (which both excites and scares me).

There is a change in the air. A change and a charge that has me electrified with excitement. I don't even know what I'm excited about. Life maybe? The transition between summer and fall seems full of possibility. The changing angle of the sun's passage across the sky sheds a new light on everything. I feel illuminated. Illuminated and excited. It's a very good change.

If Sowing a Seed is an Act of Faith,

2011-09-08T08:10:00.000-07:00

Then eating the food you grow is the moment of truth.

And these pumpkins?

They are a miracle of nature. I did not plant one single pumpkin seed this year, yet we've harvested more than twenty pumpkins. These pumpkins feel like a plague when I've been standing in the kitchen for hours, cutting, baking, scooping, pureeing, and freezing pumpkin meat, but the bags of pumpkin piling up in my freezer look a lot like a blessing. These pumpkins are a manifestation of the garden of my dreams: a chaotic, overgrown, rambling jungle full of volunteer plants from seasons past.

Avery and I have been studying civilizations from thousands of seasons past. We sit at the dining room table as I read aloud about Mesopotamia while she colors a map of the Fertile Crescent. We discuss how the intentional sowing of seeds changed the world, how the discovery of agriculture led to the building of cities, language, temples, religions. Or did it?

While sitting in the dentist's office last week, I happened upon an article in National Geographic about Gobekli Tepe, an ancient temple in Turkey, a place of worship predating the archaeological findings of the earliest agricultural civilizations. The discovery has caused a shift in the theory that agriculture came before religion. Perhaps it's the other way around. Did nomads congregate in one place and develop a shared language in order to build a temple to worship their gods, and then stay in the area and cultivate the land?

I wonder though, does it matter which came first? The chicken or the egg, the farm or the temple? Do not food and worship go hand in hand? We won't find these answers in history textbooks or old copies of National Geographic, but I believe our daily pilgrimage to the garden, the market, the kitchen, and the dinner table will bring us closer to a truth we can taste. As knowledge fills our head and belief fills our heart, so does food fill our belly. At least that's what my gut tells me.

It's getting dark earlier

2011-08-18T19:22:00.001-07:00

I almost need to turn on the light in the kitchen to cook dinner. Almost, but not quite.

The eyelet curtains suck against the screen as the kids run in and out, asking permission for this or that, dropping off and picking up whatever it is they need for their adventures: beach towels, goggles, fishing poles, shoes, water bottles.

There's a lukewarm bottle of porter poured into a chilled Ball pint jar sitting next to the book which I steal moments to read, in between chopping and sauteing. Have you read The Passage? Did you love it? Could you put it down? Will my husband mind if I read it before I give it to him, even though he was the one who told me about it and asked me to get it for him from the library?

Grandma Dunham's enchiladas are in the oven (Grandma Dunham as in my husband's grandma). To call them enchiladas seems an insult to Mexican cuisine. Ground beef, onions, and black olives rolled in flour tortillas, smothered with a can of tomato sauce, topped with shredded sharp cheddar. No one complains when I make this for dinner. There will be no leftovers to heat up for tomorrow's lunch.

It's a dinner made from memory, not written on any recipe card. I never knew Grandma Dunham, never tasted her own enchiladas (apparently made with homemade flour tortillas), but I've tasted her descendent's versions of the enchiladas, and committed their verbal instructions for making them to memory. I've received and passed on the memory of Grandma Dunham through the taste buds. It occurs to me that one day I might be known as Grandma Dunham, and I'll probably serve my grandchildren Grandma Dunham's enchiladas.

There's nothing quite as ho-hum or homey, as ordinary or comforting, as the dinner we will eat tonight, outside on the patio, as the kitchen's too dark and I don't want to turn on the lights. Not quite yet. Not until it's too dark to read.

Let's Face the Music and Dance

2011-08-15T19:35:00.000-07:00

My husband is brilliant. Canning outdoors, using propane and a turkey fryer stand. He literally makes canning cool.

* * * * *

You know when you're on the dance floor, grooving to a beat, and all of the sudden the song changes tempo, and you don't know what to do? Do you slow down, speed up, keep your own beat, or leave the floor and get a drink? Yes, today was kind of like that.

According to our homeschool charter calendar, today is the first day of school. I am officially the mother of a third grader and a sixth grader. For the first time in our homeschooling history we are all excited about starting a new school year. But the music has certainly changed, and we're trying hard to transition - gracefully - into a new song, without stepping on each other's toes.

There's been a lot of chatter in the mommy blogosphere about family rhythm lately. Well, at least the corner of the blogosphere where I travel. Lots of ideas are floating around about improving, enhancing, and even changing the rhythm of family life. Add this to the ideas floating around in my own head about family rhythm and it's like there's a radio on in every room of the house, all tuned to different stations. It gets so loud I can barely hear the music of my own heart. The music that tells me to take it slow. Move one foot at a time. Follow the lead of my partners. Stop moving and just listen if need be.

We've got big plans for this school year. New textbooks, stacks of blank journals, lists of projects, classes on the calendar, hula hoops for P.E., lots of sharp number two pencil ready to go. We're ready to rock the homeschool dance floor! But as I stood in the kitchen tonight preparing dinner, mentally ticking off the list of things I had hoped to accomplish today, and starting to feel behind - already, on the very first day - I had to do a quick inventory of what we had accomplished:

Math for both kids

Science for Aidan

A book read by Avery

A cake made by Avery

Two new fish in our aquarium

Hula hooping for everyone

Five quarts of canned peaches

A loaf of bread baked

A bag of school supplies purchased

Our library basket refilled

Two duct tape wallets constructed

Dinner on the table

We kept a steady beat today, and we'll keep on dancing tomorrow, but to a different tune: the tune of Happy Birthday. Avery will be eleven. It's a common side effect of sixth grade. Time sure flies when you're busy dancing.

Happy Campers

2011-08-12T14:39:00.000-07:00

Back to back camping trips - unexpected, but highly efficient. There was just enough time in between trips to get the laundry done, and all the gear was still piled in the garage and easy to throw back in our rig. Plus, we still had graham crackers and marshmallows left over from Tahoe.

"Camping at the beach" has been crossed off my summer to-do list.

After camping in two such different environments, I can say this: my children are about as different from each other as the mountains are to the beach. I live smack dab in between the two extremes. After all, I am a valley girl. Someone into positive B.S., such as myself, might argue that this dynamic creates balance in our family. It can also be a challenge.

Aidan was as happy as a loon running across the dunes gathering driftwood to add to the makeshift structure we found on the beach. Back at camp, he climbed trees, discovered nests, dissected owl pellets, and rolled down sandy slopes. At the end of the day he crashed in his sleeping bag, sand and found treasures spilling out of his pockets.

Avery, on the other hand, just wanted to know if there was a Starbucks nearby and if we'd be driving by any malls on the way home. Last child in the woods she is not. But I do not fret. Growing up, I was not that into nature either. Valley girls are usually most comfortable in highly populated and commercialized environments. And Avery, my little foothill home companion, is a valley girl at heart. The only treasure in her pocket is her iPod.

One day, she might find a latent naturalist growing within her. It is genetically possible. She might even hug a tree. And if not, that's OK. There's always a mall or two on the way home from just about every campground in California.

But my nature loving son and mall hugging daughter do have one thing in common: they both love the Iced Passion Tea Lemonade from Starbucks. And I love that the homemade version tastes just as good as the corporate one.

Tazo Passion Fruit tea + lemonade = a perfectly refreshing drink to sip while unpacking.

We still have marshmallows and graham crackers left, so we might not be done camping this summer. We'll keep our sleeping bags and fishing poles in easy reach just in case the river calls to us.

Sunday Morning

2011-08-07T08:59:00.000-07:00

You might be asking yourself, "Hasn't she taken this picture before?"

Yes she has. And everywhere she looks she's thinking, "Haven't I already taken a picture of that?"

But she's glad to be home. Where everything looks familiar. Where she's already taken a picture of it.

And yes, she enjoyed her week away from home. Endless hours on the beach. Four generations of family. Friendly adjacent campers. Three meals a day al fresco. Sleeping with her kids.

Perhaps the strangest highlight of her vacation: there were no fruits or vegetables to can at camp.

But now that she's home the green beans and peppers are ready to take a long, hot bath in salt, vinegar, and garlic.

She's got a lot of windows open. Around the house and on the laptop. Canning recipes. Movie showtimes (has anybody seen Captain America?). Emails to answer. Photos to upload (would anybody mind seeing more vacation pics?).

The question on her mind this morning, besides whether or not to ride her bike to the store to buy pickling salt, is: Why does writing matter? Patricia's homeschool convention workshop has got her thinking. Wondering. How can she find more time to write? What does she want to write about? Can she change lives with her words?

She'll have plenty of time to consider all of these things and more while toiling over a boiling pot of water this morning. And maybe she'll even escape her thoughts and her hot kitchen later this afternoon. Sit in an air conditioned movie theater. Be entertained by somebody else's writing. Where she'll probably wonder if just maybe someday the book of her dreams might be adapted to the big screen.

If a girl is going to dream, she might as well dream big. And if a girl is going to can, she better get off the computer and get started before it gets too hot.

Postcards From the Edge

2011-08-03T11:20:00.000-07:00

Of Lake Tahoe.

The biggest decisions I'm making are:

Walk or Bike?

Shade or Sun?

Beer or Margarita?

Mint Chip or Mocha Almond Fudge?

And most importantly,

Cannonball or Belly Flop?

Yes, I'm soaring. Thank you Avery for capturing my flight!

Maya

2011-07-31T08:49:00.000-07:00

364 days after I was born, in the very same city where I was born, my friend Maya was born. It took us over 30 years to find each other, despite our proximity, but it wasn't long after we met that we discovered our birthplace was only the beginning of our similarities. We both grew up loving stationary and detesting school. We both left school early and married young. Fortunately, we both chose our mates well. We're both autodidacts, over-thinkers, designers, Avalonians at heart, and procrastinators (but that's only because we work best under self imposed pressure). But perhaps our most important similarity was revealed by her answer when I asked her why I found it so difficult to converse with my neighbors at a party, but couldn't stop talking when we got together:

"It's because we're both hermits who would rather be at home with our family than anywhere else."

She understands us so well. And she has the smartest answers to my deepest questions. When I asked her how she felt about photoshopping pictures, she said, "I think it's fun."

And it is. It's not an ethical dilemma, a matter of conscience, it's just fun. Maya is fun. And she loves cross processing.

Today is her birthday. Tomorrow is mine. She gave me the sweetest gift: a post on her website about me and my home and how she sees all of it. In doing so, she answered another of my questions: How do other people see me?

Maya sees me. Way rite. Happy birthday Maya!

The Scene of the Crime

2011-07-27T13:35:00.000-07:00

Or, The Kitchen Sink Post. It might become a regular feature. I like sharing the eclectic anecdotes and random musings that begin in and around my kitchen sink.

~ There are 7 half pint jars of blackberry jelly cooling on my counter, and a basket of Gravenstein apples patiently waiting on my kitchen floor. As soon as I get the blackberry mess cleaned up, I'll chop, boil, juice, mash, and sweet talk some apples into jelly and butter.

~ There are 2 half gallon jars of farm fresh milk in my fridge, and I have a new found faith that sending messages to the universe via my blog is a very effective way to get what I want. I'm extremely grateful for my neighbor (hi Beth!) who read my post, called me up, and offered me a share in a local milk CSA - right here in my neighborhood! Seriously, I can ride my bike to the pick up point in less than five minutes. And the milk surpassed all my expectations. Miracles and blessings abound. I knew my grass was green, right here, right now.

~ The recipe for agua fresca over at Berlin's Whimsey made me run straight to my garden to pick some cucumbers. I made a batch last night using two lemon cucumbers - and I drank the whole pitcher full. It went down especially easy with a splash of limoncello.

~ Helen of Homeschool Style Bytes is back with homeschool inspiration, just in time to get us in the homeschool mood! After reading her recent post about grains, I jotted down a list of ideas for our upcoming school year. Can you believe it's only three weeks away?

~ My daughter got a haircut and feathers. She looks several years older (and I'm afraid I do too).

~ 50 pages into Freedom by Jonathan Franzen, I decided not to finish it. I rarely put books down, and though I'll probably always wonder what happens to the characters, the level of family dysfunction in the book made my stomach ache. I know there are children out there who hate their parents, and parents who could care less about their children, but it's not a topic I care to read about. The family relationships in Freedom are my worst nightmare come true. I'm going to start The Story of Edgar Sawtelle instead, just as soon as I clean up the blackberry mess and cram those apples into jars.

What's cluttering your kitchen sink these days? Have you canned any books or fruit recently?

A Little Help

2011-07-22T09:46:00.000-07:00

I'm just over half way through The Help and looking forward to finishing it today.

I sit down to read in the living room. There is a plum pit sitting on the arm of the chair, the chair with the wooden arms which I just polished yesterday.

I throw the pit in the compost, then go to the bathroom to wash my hands. There is a dirty, wet rag on the floor, the rag which my daughter used this morning to clean up the milk she spilled on her blanket.

I wonder, what do my children think when they leave their fruit pits and dirty rags laying around? Then again, I hope they're not thinking. It's no wonder Minny couldn't keep her mouth shut.

In the spirit of Miss Myrna's Housekeeping Advice column, I thought I'd share a little laundry tip I couldn't live without:

Do you love to wear white, but hate those yellow sweat stains under your arms or around your neck? (Please don't tell me I'm the only one with this embarrassing problem.)

Mix some baking soda and hydrogen peroxide; the consistency should be a runny, gritty paste. Rub the paste on the stains and let sit for a little while (at least long enough to sneak in a chapter or two of the book you're reading). Launder as usual.

It's like magic. The stains are gone! Now if only they'd stay gone.

Bud, Bloom, Fruit

2011-07-20T16:19:00.000-07:00

The pomegranate bushes right outside our front door are just starting to whisper about fall,
but the blackberry bushes know only one season: summer.

My friend Courtney invited us out to her father's ranch to pick blackberries the other night. Hopefully the first of many evenings we spend out there this summer. (Next time I'm bringing scooters for the kids and cold beers for the moms.)

The next day, in a burst of entrepreneurial enthusiasm, my son sold all of the blackberries we picked at his little farm stand (more about his stand in a later post). He was down to his very last basket, the basket I had put aside for our dessert, which he snuck out of the kitchen when I wasn't watching, when a neighbor pulled up and asked, "How much?"

Aidan answered, "One dollar."

"Here's a five," the neighbor said, taking his berries and driving away from one very happy eight year old boy. Even though I had started my day by perusing the local real estate web page searching for land, I fell in love with my neighborhood all over again while watching their transaction from my kitchen window. Maybe not enough in love to stop looking for land, but just enough in love to appreciate how green our grass is right here, right now.

Oh but how I would love to have these girls as neighbors, and if only I could just have one of my own.

Have you noticed the queen anne's lace popping up everywhere? I picked some this evening to put in a vase. OK, not a vase, but a green glass water bottle my friend Maya left at my house. One friend's garbage is another friend's treasure. Have you noticed that queen anne's lace smells like fresh corn tortillas? Take a whiff and see for yourself.

Speaking of tortillas, Avery revolutionized taco night at our house with a very cool idea she found online: hang tortillas on your oven racks to form shells and bake at 375 for about five minutes, or until crunchy. Brilliant!

I'm extremely grateful to have our evenings free from swim practice, giving us plenty of time to cook creative dinners, get together with friends, and pick blackberries for dessert - or for selling, depending on who gets to the berries first. While I'm looking forward to ripe pomegranates, I'm in no rush. It feels like summer has finally bloomed, and we're just beginning to enjoy its fruit.

Notes on Synchro

2011-07-19T10:01:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time, I took a summer session English class at the local community college. For five intense weeks we wrote short stories, personal essays, and research papers. It was a lot of writing. And reading. As a class, we reviewed each other's rough drafts, made suggestions, accepted criticism, and attempted to integrate the few cryptic notes our instructor wrote in our margins. Our instructor had an unusual style of grading, or so it seemed to me. We took no tests and received no grades all semester long - our only and final grade hinged on the portfolio of writing assignments we turned in at the end of the semester.

I almost dropped the class. I absolutely had to get an A in order to maintain a 4.0, as a perfect GPA was my ticket into the seriously impacted nursing program at our local state university. In other classes I could track my progress through test scores and graded papers all semester long, studying and working harder when necessary, coasting when I could in one class to focus on another. I raised my concerns in a phone call to my instructor, revealing my type A personality, and asking for some feedback regarding my writing. Cryptic as ever, she told me not to worry. So I wrote, and rewrote, and hoped she considered my writing worthy of an A.

I hadn't though about that class for years, but it came to mind last Sunday as I sat poolside and watched more than fifty synchronized swimming championship routines (that's a lot of time for a mind to wander). The swimmers had been practicing their routines several hours a day for over two months, and their success hinged on their final performance. All that work, distilled into three or four minutes, judged by 7 parent volunteers, and no way of predicting their final grade until the results were tallied and announced at the end of the day. The swimmers were completely at the mercy of the judges, just as I had once been at the mercy of my English instructor.

Our team did not do so well. After all the ribbons were handed out and rankings were announced, I turned to the man sitting next to me, the grandfather of a swimmer, and said, "Well, the biggest room is the room for improvement."

"What kind of positive bullshit is that? You must be a goddamned school teacher," he replied.

Yes. He really said all that.

Fifth place out of five teams is nothing to celebrate. Fortunately, there were only a few tears shed, and the championship results won't keep anybody out of college. We're just a recreation league after all. Perhaps next year we'll rise like a phoenix from this season's ashes.

My final grade on my English portfolio? An A+. But there's always room for improvement, so I keep on writing and rewriting. I'm no g**d****ed school teacher; I'm just a hopeful student who has finally learned that life doesn't hinge on final grades.

A Day Late

2011-07-16T10:19:00.000-07:00

The two extra copies of Calpurnia Tate go to:

Jill in New Zealand and Natalie in Alaska! (Please email me with your addresses: mollydunham at sbcglobal dot net.)

Thank you to all who entered the giveaway. The turnout reminded me of the days when this used to be a craft blog! If only there'd been more copies of the book . . .

Every once in a while, my kitchen sink provides the perfect synopsis of my life:

~ I've been painting. And realizing that the four years of art classes I took in junior high and high school did not give me the skills I need to create the art I envision. They were good classes, though. I used to skip my sixth period English class and spend an extra hour in the art building (which probably explains the liberties I take with the English language). If only I could dedicate two hours a day, five days a week, to painting, drawing, and sculpting under the tutelage of a hippy art instructor, in an expansive, bright room with twenty foot ceilings and a wall of windows. I wouldn't exactly call them glory days, but in certain ways, they were glorious. I'm seriously considering signing up for an art class this fall.

~ A cold beer at 3:30 in the afternoon tastes just the way I want summer to taste.

~ The kids talked me into buying an industrial twin pack of Nutella. Three days later, one jar is almost empty. The good news is Nutella no longer contains partially hydrogenated oil, so I feel a little better about eating it by the spoonful.

~ For some odd reason, I find milk in glass jars romantic. Expensive, yes, but those glass jars satisfy me in a way plastic jugs cannot. I've renewed my commitment to buying milk exclusively from Strauss Creamery, and I've put the word out around the local farming community that I'm looking to barter homebrew for local, raw milk (which is probably illegal in about ten different ways). I think it might be easier to locate heroin (which is only illegal in two or three different ways). Nobody keeps milk cows anymore. Everybody has goats these days. Bleh. Goats aren't nearly as romantic as cows.

And that's the news from my kitchen sink.

The kitchen counter has a different tale to tell.

Dough for bagel dogs. They taste like summer too and go perfect with a cold beer. Hold the Nutella.

Happy weekending.

What do you do when your dishwasher breaks down?

2011-07-14T13:23:00.000-07:00

I remember this guy from high school. He was a senior, I was a sophomore. He was the class clown who got detention, I was the shy girl who got good grades. We never talked, but I couldn't help but hear everything he said. He was loud, rude, and inappropriate, much like his idol, Andrew Dice Clay.

He once asked no one in particular, "What do you do when your dishwasher breaks down? . . . You hit her."

He probably told this joke in every one of his classes, and probably only once during the middle of our shared math class, but in my distorted memory of high school, he told this joke every single day. I was offended by him, but also mildly amused by his boldness. I'll bet he told a lot of nasty, misogynist jokes, but I have a feeling that had a girl paid any attention to him, he would have been more of a puppy than a pit bull.

My dishwasher has been breaking down for the past few years. First the control panel went out, then the latch broke. It only ran on one cycle, but since the control panel didn't light up, I have no idea which cycle actually worked. My husband would say it was the "make dishes dirty" cycle. It's true, sometimes items came out of the dishwasher dirtier than they went in, and I had to hand wash many a plate and fork to remove the air-dried crud. But never once did I complain - my derelict dishwasher didn't seem to bother me.

The dishwasher, however, drove my husband crazy. He never hit it, but he ultimately decided to replace it. Over a period of months, he researched makes and models, read countless reviews, searched for sales, and one Friday night after work, he came home with a new dishwasher. It was up and running by Saturday afternoon.

The highlight of our new dishwasher (besides the fact that it doesn't need an air gap, so now the extra hole in my sink contains a soap pump instead of an air gap overflow) is that my husband loves it. He loads it, runs it, and even empties it. He doesn't know where half of the stuff goes, so I still have to put some dishes away, but I'm not complaining. Waking up to hear the dishwasher mid cycle is music to my ears.

Are you familiar with the homunculus?

image source:web

The size of the body parts represent the number of sensory nerve endings they contain. The lips and palms are huge because they contain many more sensory nerve endings than, say, the arms or legs. I was telling my husband the other day that if the homonculus represented our memories, the lips would be high school. For such a short period of time in the grand scheme of things, high school memories tend to be overblown and out of proportion.

What I didn't tell my husband is this: when I load or unload my dishwasher, instead of singing him praises, which he fully deserves, I unintentionally think about that Clay copy-cat creep from high school, which ultimately means I think about him almost every single day. Ewww. He wasn't charming or good looking, but he made a long lasting impression me. I wonder how many dishwashers he's installed, or loaded, or unloaded. Or hit. I'll bet he has no idea that the quiet girl who used to sit near him in math class still remembers that joke he told over twenty years ago; and just wrote about it.

Funny, fickle things, our memories. Stranger yet is our need to share them. I think Blood, Bones & Butter is getting to me. I'm feeling strangly compelled to tell kitchen stories wrapped up in childhood memories, peppered with admissions.

Another Giveaway!

2011-07-11T15:33:00.000-07:00

Thank you to all who entered the Alphabet Glue Volume Two giveaway. The winners, as picked by Random.org, are:

Michele of The Great Read

Marie

Lise of In the Purple House

Pearly Queen of Violet-White

And Kim of A is for Akari!

(Please email me so I can forward your email addresses to Annie. mollydunham at sbcglobal dot net)

I just virtually "met" Michele of The Great Read. Have you visited her blog? She groups and shares library suggestions in the most appealing way: a book, movie, music cd, and a cookbook all sharing a common theme. I do believe she loves the library as much as I do! So I asked her to make a little collection in her signature, gold framed style for me:

With the exception of The Dirty Life (which my library did not have), I've checked these items out from my local library. I then bought the Dixie Chicks CD and Around My French Table because the three weeks I had them on loan wasn't enough.

Several of the songs on the album "Fly" make me think of Kristin Kimball in The Dirty Life - particularly "Cowboy Take Me Away". I too want to "touch the earth, wanna hold it in my hands, wanna grow something wild and unruly". The "Girl from Paris" does just that, despite hardships, setbacks, and prejudices. She grows more than food; she makes and nurtures a friendship with an old farmer, who happens to cook traditional French food using recipes passed down from his mother, dishes that are no doubt reminiscent of Dorie Greenspan's moutwatering recipes. And that is how my collection ties together. Thank you Michele for showcasing it so beautifully!

I recently checked out The Evolution of Calpurnia Tate from our library, but by the time we got around to reading it, it was due within a few days. There was no way I could read it out loud in three nights, especially with late night swimming practices. Then a miracle of sorts occurred: I popped into the Goodwill, compelled to peruse their bookshelves. And there on the bottom shelf in the children's book section were three brand new copies of The Evolution of Calpurnia Tate! I bought one for us (and returned the library's copy before I incurred overdue fees) and two for you.

If you're interested in a copy, leave a comment and I'll randomly select two winners to be announced Friday, July 15th.

We're a third of the way into the book and loving it so far. Calpurnia appeals to the latent naturalist tomboy in me. We could both hunt for bugs all day. Plus there's a fair dose of history and science, so we're all learning something new while reading.

Books and bugs, libraries and thrift stores. Just a few essentials for a beautifully balanced life.

This Boy

2011-07-08T07:58:00.000-07:00

It's no wonder he sleeps in. He stays up late. Tucks me in, kisses me goodnight, turns off his dad's audiobook, turns on his own. I wonder if he enjoys that time by himself. I hope so.

Last night he told me a story about super heroes. One hero's super power was normalcy.

"Everyone wants to be normal, but nobody is. Being normal is a super power."

I was half asleep, but I opened my eyes and lifted my head, struck by this profundity.

My little hero blows me away. His super power is a perceptive acumen beyond his years. Yet to me he still looks like a baby when he sleeps. Clever camouflage.

Alphabet Glue Volume Two!

2011-07-07T08:53:00.000-07:00

To say our family loves books would be an understatement. Books are as essential to us as chocolate (which is why I'm currently sitting at the dentist's office waiting for my children to have their cavities filled). At any given time, you'll find one of us reading, listening to an audiobook, talking or thinking about a book. George has been listening to The Hunger Games trilogy (thanks to Audible), and I just finished reading Love in the Time of Cholera (to myself) and The Indian in the Cupboard (out loud to the kids). The kids have picked up and put down a stack of books this summer, but have yet to find a book they can't put down in favor of swimming or playing with friends. The second volume of Alphabet Glue came at just the right time - it's full of reading suggestions and book related projects to capture and keep their attention. Annie has done it again!

I've already ordered one of the books on Annie's summer reading list (Children of Summer: Henri Fabre's Insects), and put several more on hold at our local library (I think Aidan will especially love The Lighthouse Family series).

The "Detectives" reading list and related projects is right up Aidan's alley. He's currently listening, for the second time, to The Brixton Brothers audiobooks. Annie's instructions for writing in invisible ink would make an excellent birthday card, especially if accompanied by a detective book.

My favorite project in Alphabet Glue Volume Two is the Story Starting Jar. Annie has provided a variety of story starters on little slips of paper (plus a few blank slips for your own story starters). I plan on placing a jar of story starters next to Aidan's bed for our night time story telling, a regular feature of our bed time ritual. Once my eyes get too tired to read another chapter out loud, I close my eyes and open my ears while he tells me stories of his own.

Annie has generously offered to give away five copies of Alphabet Glue Volume Two to readers of A Foothill Home Companion. Leave a comment (and if you're so inclined, a summer reading suggestion for children) for an opportunity to receive a copy. I'll announce the winners on Monday, July 11th. If you can't wait, head over to Annie's blog, Bird and Little Bird, to purchase and download your own copy of Alphabet Glue Volume Two.

Happy summer reading!

Honey(mooning)

2011-07-02T10:42:00.000-07:00

Thirteen years ago this week we were honeymooning. I was a young bride, just shy of 22, and our honeymoon was the first vacation I'd taken without blood relatives. Ironically, our honeymoon, the monumental trip to celebrate the binding of husband and wife in holy matrimony, was the biggest taste of freedom I had ever had. No chaperones, no checking in with parents. Just me and my guy, a bag of CDs, a tank of gas, an envelope of cash, some leftover food from our reception, two bikes on a rack, a few rolls of black and white film, and reservations in the Pacific Northwest.

We drove north slowly, along the coast, stopping when we felt like it, drinking beer when we found a microbrewery, but coming home, we took the fast way, straight down I-5, making fewer stops, pulling off the interstate to watch 4th of July fireworks from an offramp in southern Oregon, anxious to get home to our new life together.

I knew the blueprints for our new life included a fixer upper we'd call home (which we bought five months after our wedding), and two kids (the number we both agreed upon from the beginning of our courtship), but I had no idea at the time it would include chickens, honeybees, 30+ fruit trees, an ever expanding garden, and cabinets full of homeschooling, homebrewing, and homesteading supplies. These were change orders that came after we began construction. This life we've built together with the idea of freedom from convention in actuality binds us to each other, to the dirt on which we live, to the animals we care for, to the house we call home in constant need of repair and attention. It's freedom of a sort - freedom to be who we are, where we want to be, to live how we want to live. But it's a far cry from a honeymoon, and it doesn't always feel free.

Our colony of bees, which rejected two queens, which we feared would die off or leave us, upon recent inspection is thriving and growing. Whether our package of bees came with a queen of it's own, or a swarm took up residence in our hive, we'll never know. But we don't need to know how it works in order to appreciate that it does work, much like our marriage - a cooperative union between two very different individuals, opposites in many ways, from dissimilar backgrounds, who struggle to be heard over the constant buzz of daily life. We arrived here a package of two, cramped in an old Honda hatchback, and we've built up our hive, added on compartments for offspring, larders for nourishment. We've got just the right amount of bee space to keep us content, we can move around each other freely without feeling confined, and in thirteen years, we've never even thought about swarming.

Pretty sweet, huh?

If not berries and bread,

2011-06-28T14:21:00.000-07:00

How about berries and bugs?

Every summer, we watch the cicadas molt in our backyard. I remember the first one we saw, six summers ago, clinging to the wheel of Aidan's tricycle, shedding its baby skin, shaking out its brand new, still wet wings. That was the summer the kids learned the word "exoskeleton". Nothing like two and four year olds saying "exoskeleton".

Today I noticed several exoskeletons dotting the fence, and soon I expect to hear the call of cicadas. All I can hear right now is the patter of an unexpected summer rain storm. The smell wafting through the open windows is intoxicating. Nothing like the smell of warm, wet earth.

It's time for me to take my book out to the back porch, breathe deeply, ignore the rain soaked laundry which I hung to dry this morning, and settle into a story. The kids are hoping to hear peals of thunder, signaling the cancellation of synchronized swimming practice tonight. Can't say I'd mind that either.

I just finished reading A Discovery of Witches by Deborah Harkness this morning. Run, don't walk, to your local library and borrow a copy. I enjoyed every single page of it, and it took me only three days to read its 579 pages, a stark contrast to the three weeks it took me to finally finish reading Frankenstein. Not that I didn't enjoy Frankenstein, it's just that 19th century English is so painfully wordy (but as Aidan informed me, all books are wordy; they're full of words!). After following poor, doomed Dr. Frankenstein and his lonely, despicable creature around Europe for so long, my brain thoroughly enjoyed an escape into a 21st century tale full of vampires, witches, colleges, and castles. I couldn't wait to finish it, but I didn't want it to end. Now I'm patiently waiting for its sequel, publication date unknown. Love in the Time of Cholera will help me pass the time. Nothing like an epic romance on a rainy afternoon in June.

As for the crocheted strawberries giveaway, the Random Number Generator was kind enough to select Carrie of Rhubarb Sky! Congratulations Carrie! And a big thank you to all who commented and shared your encouraging words of support and agreement. Nothing like friends, near and abroad, who take time out of their day to write nice things on your blog.

One of these berries is not like the others

2011-06-21T13:32:00.000-07:00

"Alas, I am simply one more woman blogging about homemade bread and fresh picked berries", wrote Lady Cordelia at the beginning of a post last month. I've been chuckling to myself about it ever since.

I am, however, simply one more woman blogging, and here I go blogging about berries. Freshly crocheted strawberries. The summer issue of Rhythm of the Home includes my amigurumi crocheted strawberry pattern. It's a pattern I came up with a few years ago when I gave Bridgeman Pottery berry bowls to all my sisters-in-law. I've been hanging onto the pattern, scrawled in pencil on a piece of notebook paper, thinking it would be the perfect little addition to the craft book I dream of writing one day. But after some thought about the craft book of my daydreams, I decided that Rhythm of the Home was a much better place to share my handiwork.

Is the universe not complete without my contribution to the craft section of major bookstores? Does the world really need my version of the ever popular craft book? Because here's the deal: I can make up patterns, I can create handmade items, I can wear the things I design and use the things I make, but I can't seem to create the opportunity to get pictures of me wearing or using these things, or sit down and write directions on how I made them. If I made the time to take these pictures and write these directions, I would not have the time to do all the things I want to do while wearing and using the items I've designed. And really, the reason I've designed and made these items is to enhance my life, not complicate it.

There are people among us who possess the skills to create, photograph, share, and publish it all in a book, and I'm going to leave them to it. Their body of work is a harmonious choir, singing the praises of a handmade life. I don't need to be up there singing along. I can be right here, listening and nodding my head in agreement. Amen. Anyways, I can't carry a tune in a bucket. My kids always shush me when I start singing. I'll take my husband's advice and keep my day job.

Funny thing is, my thoughts on the craft book idea really came together after reading an interview with a craft book writer. Grace of Uncommon Grace recently interviewed Meg McElwee about her new book, Growing Up Sew Liberated. I was especially impressed by Meg's admission, "Motherhood is a humbling experience, and right now I can't do all of the things I wrote about in my own book!"

Yes, yes, and yes again! I often wonder how to make all the things I want to make and be the mother I want to be. The equation rarely adds up in my experience. My kids do not play peacefully alongside me while I knit. They never have. When Avery was about three years old, she took the skein of yarn from which I was knitting a poncho and ran a loop around the house three times before I even realized what she was doing. A few years later, Aidan took a pair of scissors and snipped the yarn between the skein and the sock I was knitting. I took these events as a sign to put down my needles and pick up my children. I returned to crochet when my children were young simply because it was easier to stop mid row and put down my crochet, something I found difficult to do with my knitting.

Lo and behold, I discovered that I could create my own crochet patterns. My mind understands crochet in a way it does not understand knitting. I can follow a knitting pattern, but creating one seems completely beyond me. And while I prefer the look of knitted items over crocheted items, crochet has it's place. Strawberries, garlands, acorn caps, wire leaves - they certainly have a place in my home.

In celebration of shelving my dream of writing a craft book, and the publication of my stawberry pattern in Rhythm of the Home, I'd like to give away a pair of crocheted strawberries. Unlike the loose strawberry pictured above, these strawberries are connected by a thin green crochet chain, about 18 inches long. You can hang them from a hook (I've had a pair hanging from my inspiration board for years), use them to wrap a package, or stuff them in your junk drawer and wonder what in the heck to do with them. I've got drawers and cabinets full of such wonderful items. Yet another reason not to write a craft book. What does one do with so many handmade items anyways??? But that's another post.

Leave a comment and I will select one winner at random, to be announced on Monday, June 27th.

In the meantime, happy bread making and berry picking from the woman who can't stop posting pictures of her chickens.

2011-06-17T16:59:00.000-07:00

I had more pressing things to get done this morning. Laundry, dishes, smog check, feed the chickens, bubble wash the biodiesel, pay some bills, sweep the porch. You know, same ol', same ol'.

But I certainly didn't have anything better to do this morning than finish a puzzle with Aidan. I guess you could say I accomplished 1000 things on my to-do list.

Earlier this week, as I was painting Aidan's bedroom, the kids begged me to take them to the water park. I responded, "There's enough time in the day to accomplish what we need to do and what we want to do."

Wishful thinking on my part. We made it to the water park the day after I finished painting. I can't accomplish everything in one day, but I'm going to make it a priority this summer to do the things we want to do.

Here's my list:

Listen to loud music

Fall asleep on the hammock

Eat fruit for dinner once a week

Snorkel down the river

Pick fruit with friends

Read adventure books with the kids

Ride my bike to the library

Design and sew clothes with Avery

Practice yoga outside

Draw and paint

Get a movie projector and watch movies in the backyard

Make a quilt

Always have a jigsaw puzzle in progress

Camp at the beach

By making my list public, I hope I'll be more inclined to make my list happen. I've got all summer to check it off - and add to it.

What's on your summer list?

2011-06-11T07:57:00.001-07:00

These chickens bring a whole new meaning to the phrase "under my wing".

2011-06-08T12:52:00.000-07:00

I don't always know what to bring to this space. Sometimes it's a struggle, so I don't bring anything at all. But this space, this blog, isn't the only space with which I struggle. I question what I bring to many spaces in my life, especially the social spaces I encounter when I venture out of my preferred space at home. Silence fills the space I don't know how to fill.

But this morning, as I sat at my sewing machine, feeling the gentle breeze through open windows, listening to the kids sling marbles across the yard, pondering the sweet emails I received from friends who missed me at Squam, I had an epiphany of sorts (though it might have been the sunny, 70 degree weather going to my head), and I had to rush to this space to tell you:

When I bring myself, I bring enough.

The same is true for you. When I visit your space, your presence is exactly what I'm looking for. I get so much from the little details you share. Don't underestimate what you bring to your space. You can inspire without even trying. Maybe especially when you don't try.

Months ago, Tara shared something about catching a glimpse of her own reflection in the window at night. Her post had nothing to do with window coverings, or the lack thereof, but I realized at once my blinds had to go. They inhibited my reflection. Just that one little detail about her space completely transformed my own space. My windows have been bare since February. It was my bare windows that led to my epiphany this morning.

There are certain parts of myself that I question - sometimes fear - bringing to this space and other social spaces. What if I'm not enough? What if I bring or say or, heaven forbid, wear the wrong thing? I'll bet some of you have similar reservations. Just like me, you put blinds on your windows. But when you can't see your own reflection, others can't see you either.

I want to bring more of myself to this space. The little details, and the big ones too. The things I believe, even if anonymous commenters tell me I'm wrong. I want to bring less of what I think you want to see, and more of the me I glimpse in my bare windows when the sun goes down.

Even if I'm interrupted 50 times during the 4 to 5 hours it takes me to post a few hundred words. I'll bet you know something about that too.

2011-06-06T16:15:00.000-07:00

One week ago today, ten out of twelve fertile eggs placed under our brooding hens hatched. I'm happy to report there are still ten baby chicks scurrying about the chicken coop. The day we spent vermin-proofing the chicken run was well worth it.

We're feeling like successful chicken farmers, but the credit really goes to those patient, tender hens. Motherhood becomes them. Watching the chicks grow under their tutelage and care is oh so different than raising chicks under a heat lamp. It's simply amazing that three hens sat for 24 hours a day, for 21 days (that's over 1500 hours of combined sitting!), on eggs they did not lay themselves, to produce these precious peeps.

Ain't life grand?

A Week

2011-05-27T14:45:00.000-07:00

A few rainy days, a few sunny ones, and a few that couldn't make up their mind.

A hillside planted with mandarins and lavender.

A small harvest from the garden, and a few more seeds in the ground.

A book read (Lorrie Moore's A Gate At the Stairs; loved it).

A movie watched (Nowhere Boy).

A dead queen bee. Again.

A lot to learn about bees.

A few new recipes made out of two new cookbooks (Super Natural Cooking and Super Natural Everyday).

A successful batch of homemade yogurt (loving the slow cooker method from Home Dairy).

A big responsibility assumed (coaching a synchronized swimming routine - WHAT WAS I THINKING?).

A cabinet cleaned out and reorganized for a new school year.

A walk downtown, and farther to old town for an unplanned lunch at a locally celebrated deli.

A meatball sandwich that was a little too gourmet for kids (and by gourmet I mean mushrooms), and a carrot cake cupcake that was just right split three ways.

A three day weekend to look forward to.

A very good week indeed.

If the World Were to End Tomorrow,

2011-05-20T16:12:00.001-07:00

(as billboards up and down the freeway and middle aged men handing out fliers at community events proclaim,)

I'd take my coffee outside, sit on the hammock, and watch the bees come and go while I sipped.

I'd comb through the strawberry bushes for bursts of red, and seek green pea pods among the twisting, sagging vines.

I'd look up in the trees for blushing cherries, bend a branch down to pluck one, and wish for more.

I'd make breakfast, clean a few dishes (but not all of them), and hang a load of laundry on the line.

I'd make a half hearted attempt to do some homeschooling with the kids, but settle for quiet reading time, taking my own book out to the hammock, disappearing into words for an hour or two.

I'd take a deep whiff of boiling malted grain wafting from the garage, and be glad my husband has so much vacation time.

I'd visit with neighbors, make a baby laugh and then cry (not on purpose, of course), and set up my childhood tee-pee for a little friend.

I'd rinse and boil the pinto beans which had been soaking on the kitchen windowsill overnight, filter some limoncello, and water the potatoes which are just starting to break the brown surface with a deep green that is almost black.

I'd feed my family dinner, sing along with the Beattles, and get ready for a baseball game.

I'd look forward to a few chapters of Jules Verne at bedtime, a full night's sleep, and coffee on the hammock tomorrow morning.

I wouldn't count on rapture, I wouldn't fear hell, and I wouldn't change a thing about today, tomorrow, or yesterday.

Hi.

2011-05-10T16:10:00.000-07:00

I'm still here, just in case you're wondering.

But the call of the garden has become even louder. I'm checking on newly planted seeds the way a new mother checks on a sleeping baby. Wake up little seeds.

The kids are selling minty lime-aid in front of our neighbor's house, and apparently making a lot of money. They've come in several times to fill up their pitchers. I took advantage of the quiet house to clean off my kitchen windowsill. Now I can better enjoy the Anthropologie style egg crate I picked up at Ross for $2.99. Score.

We have two brooding chickens. Aidan placed six fertilized eggs under each of them. He wishes he could sit on a few and hatch them himself. Sometimes I wish he could sit still that long. If all goes well, we'll have baby chicks around Memorial Day. I caught one of the brooding hens taking a break from her nest today. She was all fluffed up and bothered. Do you ever feel that way? I certainly do.

Especially around 5 o'clock. The time of day when I often pop the top off a homebrew. But I'm not drinking this month in a vain attempt to lose a few pounds. According to the scale, my plan is not working. But I'm going to keep trying, because it's not just about my waistline. It's about self control, a much under-rated virtue. I'm also serving at least two vegetables every night with dinner, because it's not just about the the scale. It's about being healthy.

Our honey bees are arriving on Saturday. Bee prepared for close up photos and bad puns.

And because no post on my site is complete without an inappropriate picture (or sentences beginning with "and" and "but"),

behold the busy butterflies. This photo was a complete surprise as I was scrolling through my memory card. Aidan is definitely improving as a photographer. He can be still when he wants to be.

Bye for now.

Gone to Seed

2011-04-28T14:10:00.000-07:00

There's no place I'd rather be right now than out in the garden.

With the chickens, who somehow know to eat the weeds and not my greens.

With the trees that are leafing, and beckoning barefoot boys.

With the bugs who are mating, and accidentally hitching a ride to the kitchen on my shirt.

With the arugula that is bolting, promising seed for a fall planting.

With the peas that are blooming, testing our patience by making us wait for it's fruit.

I'm wondering if I can trust that the last frost has actually occurred, because I can hardly wait to plant tomatoes, peppers, squash, cucumbers, and basil (just to name a few). My mouth is watering at the prospect of pasta with chopped tomatoes and minced jalapeno, and a generous sprinkle of salt. Mmmmm. I could eat it every day. And hopefully in a few months time, I will. Until then, I'll be filling up on arugula with lemon juice, olive oil, slices of parmesan, salt and pepper, and thinking of my arugula loving friends. You know who you are.

xo.

molly, lazy blogger and enthusiastic gardener

Maybe Worry is the Wrong Word

2011-04-18T17:10:00.001-07:00

"We have to fight them daily, like fleas, those many small worries about the morrow, for they sap our energies.... The things that have to be done must be done, and for the rest we must not allow ourselves to become infested with thousands of petty fears and worries, so many motions of no confidence in God." - Etty Hillesum, An Interrupted Life: the Journal of a Young Jewish Woman via Melissa Bridgman

I've come here to write this several times, only to delete the post, close my computer, and walk away. And then today, I read something that completely changed the post in my mind. Ginny over at Small Things wrote:

"I don't have to worry about things such as where the next meal I feed my children will come from. Those things that do worry me, they are actually signs of the blessings upon us."

I've been full to the brim with worry the last few weeks. Not to worry you, though. None of the worry is really my own. Like Ginny, I don't have to worry about where our next meal comes from. I don't have to worry about much, in fact. Yet . . .

I worry about neighbors who are out of work. Aging members of our extended family and those who take care of them. Other family members who are working around the clock to recover from a fire and rebuild their home. Friends struggling financially. Children living in broken homes. Unhappy marriages (thankfully not my own).

Then my mind leaves my own little corner of the world and finds even more worries - earthquakes, tsunami, tornadoes, civil war, political upheaval, to mention just a few things making the news.

(A little collage I made featuring Lady Gaga lyrics and slave laborers in India. Yes, I've been in a weird place.)

Ginny's words made me reconsider my worried state. I think worry is the wrong word. I think the emotion I'm feeling is care. I care deeply about many people and many things. Up until now, I've been worried, and all that worry has brought me down and gotten me nowhere. All this worry has made it hard for me to come to this space and share pretty pictures and crafty projects.

Worry is a negative emotion. Care is positive.

Worry saps our energy (just like blame). Care fills our heart and lifts our spirit.

Worry makes us ineffective. Care makes us compassionate.

Worry can't help someone in need. Care can.

I'm shedding my worries. They're no good to me or anyone else. Already I feel better. Thanks for caring.

Take Me Out To the Ball Game

2011-04-12T11:28:00.000-07:00

The game was late.
The bleachers were cold.
The other team was ~~bigger and better~~ older and more experienced.
The game was exciting - I found myself on my feet cheering more than once.
And even though his team didn't win, he scored his first run of the season.
It was the perfect spring evening.

I read an interesting post on Kora Organics the other day, titled "Do You Give Your Power Away?" The first sentence got me thinking:

"WHEN WE BLAME another, we give our power away because we’re placing the responsibility for our feelings on someone else." Louise Hay

I'm so over blame. I no longer care who did what, who said what, and why. Why does there have to be a reason for everything that happens, a person at fault, someone or something to blame? Why can't we just let things be?

The person I spend the most time blaming is myself. I spend far too much time and mental energy devising excuses for myself. For example, when I'm driving Aidan to baseball practice, and we're running a few minutes behind, I'm mentally rehearsing good excuses for being late. Yes, sometimes my excuses include blaming somebody else so that I shift the responsibility from myself. The truth is that no one at practice is blaming me for being late. Most of the time, we're not actually late, just a few minutes behind MY ideal time to arrive.

I'm draining my own power by constantly making excuses for myself, and for blaming myself.

Sometimes I'm late.

Sometimes I'm slow.

Sometimes it takes me a long time to accomplish tasks.

Sometimes I place frivolity before necessity.

Sometimes I don't do what I'm supposed to do.

Sometimes I do exactly as I please.

No one is to blame, and no excuses are necessary. This is power. This is personal responsibility. This just is, and I'm learning to let it be.

What To Do About Sundays

2011-04-05T07:53:00.000-07:00

According to our resident adolescent, Sundays suck. I remember feeling the same way when I was her age. Sundays meant the end of the weekend and the beginning of a new week. Sundays were bad because Mondays were worse. I'm determined to make Sundays suck a little less for our family, because let's face it - if the adolescent ain't happy, ain't nobody happy.

A surefire way to improve any day is a change of scenery. Pack a picnic, load up the snowshoes, don't forget the sunscreen, and hit the road. Go somewhere you've never been before.

A lake. A snowy trail. An old mining town. A road never traveled.

The adolescent, though she'd never admit it, seemed slightly happier (especially after the snowshoes came off). The boy said several times on the way home, "I feel good." The mom and dad think they've found an answer to the Sunday problem, at least for now.

A Little Announcement

2011-03-31T15:53:00.001-07:00

I've been sitting on an idea for a long time. Years in fact. And even though I wonder if my idea might still need some more time incubating, I've decided to let it hatch and see what happens.

It's a new website called Blarter. My husband came up with the name - it's a smash up of blog and barter. Two things I love to do.

The goal of Blarter is to encourage the trade of goods and services between bloggers, with a focus on handmade items, vintage goods, patterns, art and craft supplies, as well as services such as graphic design, photography, pattern testing, and product promotion.

Blarter hopes to connect people through barter arrangements. The exchange of goods and services without money requires coordination, communication, honesty, and often leads to a deeper connection between the people involved in the trade. Blarter is the place where these connections begin.

Many bloggers, including myself, have been bartering with other bloggers for years. I've exchanged an embroidered t-shirt for stationary, a box of California oranges for Vermont maple syrup, and just recently, I traded a crocheted garland for a fox.

Here are a few ways Blarter could help you find opportunities for barter arrangements:

Perhaps you've just opened an Etsy store and it's filled with all sorts of lovelies, and you just need a little help spreading the word about your new shop. You could post a free ad on Blarter offering a small item from your Etsy store in exchange for a month of advertising for your store on the recipient's blog.

Or maybe you have an abundance of glass beads, but not nearly enough cotton scraps for the quilt you'd like to make. Post an ad on Blarter and maybe you'll find someone with plenty of scraps who'd love your glass beads.

Do you have a stack of craft magazines you no longer need but can't bear to throw out? Post them on Blarter, and perhaps you'll get an offer from another blogger who wants to send you an original art print or photograph in exchange.

Posting to Blarter is easy and free. Once your post is up, anyone interested in a barter arrangement can contact you by email, and you can decide on the exchange that's right for you.

So hop over to Blarter and give it a look. Post something and see what happens. Spread the word if you feel inclined by linking to Blarter on your blog. I've even got some widgets for your sidebar. Blarter might be my pet project, but it's a community for all of us. I'd love you to be part of it!

And the winners are . . .

2011-03-28T15:51:00.000-07:00

A copy of Keeping Bees goes to:

Citizen K!

I've been fascinated with beekeeping ever since I saw the documentary film Queen of the Sun last October. These look like fantastic books - your resulting projects sound so exciting! I would love to own Keeping Bees.

A copy of Home Dairy goes to:

Dhilma!

Hi, I would love to get a chance to win Home Diary. Bees are still not in my things to do list what with a naughty 2 year old romping around our house! But I would really love to learn how to make home made butter....yumm

Copies of Alphabet Glue go to:

Eidolons, Arianne, and Nacherluver!

And finally, a $50 gift certificate from AG Ambroult goes to:

Teeter-Tottering On the Brink! (boy oh boy do i know how that feels!)

If you've won a book, please email me your address. If you've won the gift certificate or Alphabet Glue magazines, please email me your email address. mollydunham@sbcglobal.net

Thank you to everyone who stopped by and entered last week's giveaways!

AG Ambroult - Gift Certificate Giveaway!

2011-03-25T14:28:00.000-07:00

Do you know Amy of Elemental?

Metalsmith, jewelry designer, painter, block print carver, gardener, blogger, knitter, mother - I'm sure I've left something out. Amy is accomplished, and she has an amazing Etsy store, AG Ambroult.

Here's just a few of my favorite items from her store:

Inspired by nature, literature, and family, and driven by a desire to create with her hands, Amy takes cold, resistant metal, and patiently manipulates it into wearable, organic jewelry. Amy's jewelry is stylish and timeless, designed to be worn, constructed to last, and bound to be treasured.

Amy has generously offered a $50 gift certificate for her Etsy store! So hop over to her store, find a piece you love, then come back here, leave a comment and tell us about it. I will announce the winner on Monday, March 28, 2011.

Have a wonderful weekend!

Alphabet Glue Giveaway!

2011-03-23T15:14:00.000-07:00

There are few things I love more than scenes like this - children getting completely lost in a good book. I especially love it when scenes and characters from the books they love appear in their conversations, in their stories, in their artwork, in their dreams.

That's why I'm so excited about Annie of Bird and Little Bird's new e-magazine for families - Alphabet Glue.

Annie - mother, crafter, and literacy teacher extraordinaire - has compiled a fantastic quarterly magazine filled with activities, printables, projects, and reading recommendations for families who love books.

The wildflower seed pod project, corresponding to the book, Miss Rumphius, is on my immediate to-do list (just as soon as I finish this post and the sewing project Avery and I are working on - dinner might be late tonight).

The library catalog cards take me back to my childhood, to the garage in my family's old house, where I set up a library for the neighborhood kids. I never got my sign language book back from that boy down the street.

The mix and match story cards are a great starting point for family storytelling - the kids love me to tell them stories, but truth be told, I'm sometimes at a loss for ideas. Annie has come to my rescue with Alphabet Glue!

You can purchase and download a copy of Alphabet Glue here for $4. Or if you're feeling lucky, leave a comment - Annie has offered three complimentary issues of Alphabet Glue to my readers! I will announce the winners on Monday, March 28.

Happy reading, and thanks for visiting!

Homemade Living - Book Giveaway!

2011-03-21T16:20:00.000-07:00

You know a book is good when your daughter picks it up and reads it before you get a chance.

But when your husband takes the book to work and reads it as soon as your daughter finishes it, and comes home saying things like, "Let's make some butter tonight!", or, "Can you call the bee store and find out if they still have bees?", you know you better start reading.

And reading Home Dairy and Keeping Bees with Ashley English is time well spent, especially if you're ready to try your hand at some advanced homesteading skills. Reading Ashley's books is like chatting with a friend about starting a new hobby - she knows the history, the how-to, and uses words like heretofore. I love that word!

But Ashley goes beyond chatting about hobbies - her words and images inspire action. Not only have we been spreading homemade butter on our toast every morning, we also have a bee box sitting in the middle of the living room waiting for a coat of paint, and a date on the calendar to pick up bees at the end of next month!

Now if only we could make room in the backyard for a cow . . . (though I should add here that that's just my crazy talk - Ashley's book isn't about keeping cows, but all about making your own dairy products at home).

So if you're interested in becoming a bee keeper, or an artisan cheese maker, or even if you'd just like to make a batch of sour cream or honey ice cream, look no further than Ashley English's newest additions to her Homemade Living series - Keeping Bees and Home Dairy. She'll help you get started on your new homesteading hobby - or get your daughter and husband started so you can enjoy the fruits of their labor.

Interested in winning your own copy of Keeping Bees or Home Dairy? Sterling Publishing has kindly offered to host a giveaway to readers of my blog. Leave a comment and I'll announce two winners one week from today - March 28, 2011.

Stay tuned, as I'll be announcing two more giveaways this week. Are you feeling lucky? Well, me too - thanks for stopping by.

Field Trip, Part Three, or, Molly Takes a Personal Day

2011-03-17T16:00:00.000-07:00

When Maya calls and invites you to San Francisco for the day, accept her invitation. This is a rare opportunity to spend the day with Maya, without any children, and to meet the spirit of Squam, Elizabeth, and her lovely niece, Lauren, who are in town to explore.

Start calling your relatives to see if they can watch your kids for the day.

When the relatives are unavailable, start calling your neighbors. Hire a babysitter for the first time in years (and the second time ever). Make a mental note that you are seriously ill equipped in the childcare department.

Drive to Maya's and eat breakfast with her boys while she gets ready. Giggle and make jokes and enjoy spending time with children who aren't your own.

Talk, talk, talk, talk all the way to the city.

Pick up Elizabeth and Lauren at their incredibly cool vacation rental (found via vrbo.com), and head to the Mission District. First stop: Curiosity Shoppe.

Meet Derek and buy your kiddos some curiously cool knick-knacks (3-D drawing pad for Aidan and chocolate chip cookie wallet for Avery).

Eat lunch at Gracias Madres. Serious vegan goodness. Go ahead and order a pint of beer to go with your tacos. You don't get out much - you deserve to splurge.

Go to Japantown and experience it Maya-style. She grew up here and knows all the good shops. Buy some printed tape for your kiddos (Lego tape for Aidan and tiny hearts for Avery). Take a picture of the UPS man. Resist buying a stack of Japanese craft books. They're beautiful and inspiring, and you could look at them all day, but you can't read them, and you don't have all day to look at them anyways.

Go back to Elizabeth and Lauren's vacation pad and take some pictures while they put on their hiking boots.

Drive across the Golden Gate bridge and hike up Mount Tamalpais.

Turn around and hike back down when you see two coyotes up ahead on the trail. Make a mental note to come back here with the kids - after all, Mt. Tamalpais is the hotbed for monsters in the Percy Jackson books. This is also the place where Atlas holds up the sky.

Take a blurry picture as you run across the street in Sausalito. Head back to the city, drop off Elizabeth and Lauren at the most visually appealing grocery store you've ever seen, grab a Coke and fries with Maya. Call it dinner. Drive home. Try not to fall asleep. Hug your husband and kids who have waited up for you. Be grateful that they missed you, and that you've had such a great day, you won't need another personal day for months.

Your husband is right, you live a charmed life.

Field Trip, Part Two

2011-03-15T15:48:00.000-07:00

Sneak in on a guided tour of Jack London's cottage with a kind and knowledgable docent.

Never mind the high school kid who's researching the history of the land.

Imagine living in Jack London's cottage, complete with detached kitchen and dining room (turned sitting room for museum - go ahead, imagine the farm table that once occupied this space).

Wonder how Jack London was able to not only write 50 books in his short 40 years, but also be an agricultural pioneer. Wonder why you can barely write a few emails and do the laundry in one day.

Figure out how you can get this man a vineyard of his own (though let's face it, you're the one who wants the vineyard - he'd rather have a hop farm.)

Climb the mountain to Jack London's personal lake.

Try to ignore your son's constant whining about the uphill hike. Be grateful for the sound absorbing properties of huge redwood trees, moist ferns, and damp earth.

Give your husband extra points for intentionally standing in front of the trail marker while the kids walk by - you don't want them to see how many miles you still have to go.

Bribe your son with a cold root beer on the way home if he will only. stop. whining. please. Be amazed at how well this bribe works.

Ignore the stench and hide your great disappointment with the cesspool that was once Mr. London's swimming hole. Ewwww. Don't even take pictures. Just plug your nose and hurry back down the hill.

Jump in the car and note with surprise the time - you've been hiking for several hours! You're nearly late for dinner with your parents and grandparents.

Change your plans to visit a brewery on the way home. Stop at a convenience store for drinks. Enjoy your family dinner.

Go home and get ready for part three of your field trip. This time, the husband and kids are staying behind and it's all. about. you. More to come.

Field Trip, Part One

2011-03-13T11:00:00.000-07:00

Listen to the Percy Jackson books with your kids over and over and over again.

Marvel at how much you and your children learn about Greek Mythology thanks to Rick Riordan's modern day spin on the myths.

Sigh with relief when you find the newest audiobook in the series, The Lost Hero, at the library, because you'd rather sail through the Bermuda Triangle than listen to The Sea of Monsters one more time.

Start making plans for field trips to the nearby locations mentioned in The Lost Hero, because nothing brings the story to life like visiting the locations where the story takes place.

Drive through hot water to get to the first location: Jack London State Park in Glen Ellyn, CA. Who knew Jack London was the son of a Greek god? And all this time we thought his father was a traveling astrologer . . .

Wonder why you haven't come here before. It's absolutely gorgeous, even in - or especially in - the drizzly weather.

Wish you had worn better hiking shoes.

Tour the remains of the Wolf House. It's nearly neon green with moss and lichen.

Let your family walk ahead while you investigate the flora. Hope that Rick Riordan introduces Flora and delves deeper into Roman mythology in future books .

Journey back to your car for snacks and a brief respite from the increasingly heavy rain. But don't worry, it will let up just enough for you to visit Jack London's cottage and farm, and you definitely won't want to miss either of those.

Field trip to continue.

Freaky Friday

2011-03-11T15:39:00.000-08:00

So, I was supposed to share our field trip. And a tutorial update. But then my week got a little crazy. Sound familiar? It was crazy in a very good way, though, and I will share more about that soon.

There's more pressing issues right now. Namely the entertainment of one eight year old boy. A boy who is obsessed with zombies and who was determined to make himself into one today.

I think he did a very good job (with a little help from his mama). Without any red face paint, we had to improvise. Don't you love it when the improvisation is better than the original concept?

Here's our secret recipe for bored, zombie loving, dramatic, and theatrical children - of any age:

Paint your face with white, gray, or, in our case, silver face paint. Mix a small spoonful of beet powder, a teaspoon or so of corn starch, a few pinches of cocoa powder and just enough water to make a paste. Smear the paste wherever you'd like to create the appearance of a grotesque and meaty gash in your skin.

Put on some tattered clothing, one shoe, and walk slowly down the street, dragging one leg behind you (the one with the shoe, preferably, as zombies don't typically heal from abrasions), head slightly hanging to the side, eyes rolled up, arms rigid, muttering "brains, brains, brains".

Knock on your neighbor's door and give them a good fright. It's Friday, and it's freaky. Have fun!

Family Photo Project: February

2011-03-07T13:09:00.000-08:00

As I mentioned last month,

::My mom, brother and I have a new photography project this year. Each month, one of us selects a word, and we take pictures prompted by that word. At the end of the month, I put the pictures together in a triptych.::

My brother chose the word for February: triangle.

My brother's sleek and triangular table legs, my mom's triangle of snow stuck in my grandmother's cyclone fence, and Aidan's ice cream cone.

Finding triangles wasn't easy at first, but once found, they started to appear everywhere. My ice cream shot was taken at the end of February, and while I was focusing on the triangular nature of the ice cream cone, I started seeing more triangles once I uploaded the photo. The edge of the table, the angle at of the table from my vantage point, Avery's elbow on the table. Then there are the triangles in the negative space - the space between the spoon and cone, the space behind Avery and around her shadow.

Even now that February is behind us, I can't stop looking for triangles.

A very triangular fence found on a recent field trip. More pictures of said field trip coming soon. Get ready for a photographic feast.

Thank you Robert for this very geometric photographic exercise! My mom chose the word for March:

Doors.

Speaking of doors, Aidan was singing "Hello, I Love You" the other day, and I asked him, "How do you know that song?"

That song predates me! Avery answered the question for me: "Hello! You're our mom."

I guess I've been singing the song without realizing it! Today I'm singing, "One Less Bell to Answer". George is back to work and now I've got one less egg to fry (although I'm still picking up after him). Avery's singing along too, because, as she pointed out, I'm her mom. Singing and picture taking - it's all in the family.

Home Again, Home Again

2011-03-04T15:56:00.000-08:00

I love it when George drives,

and Aidan reads,

and Avery stares pensively out the window.

But mostly I love that after spending a few days in a different house,

we're all so happy to come back to our home.

March On(e)

2011-03-01T10:14:00.000-08:00

George is home from work this week.

We're on the go, go, go.

Yesterday we drove through leafless orchards highlighted with yellow mustard.

Today we're packing our snowshoes and heading for snow covered mountains.

In a few days we'll be driving through vineyards in search of historic monuments.

Already I feel the doldrums melting away.

We're enjoying a break from the everyday and enjoying a new rhythm this week. And speaking of new rhythms (sorry for the cheesy segue) . . .

The new edition of Rhythm of the Home is up today, and there's a little contribution over there from yours truly.

I'll be back in a few days with tales from our travels, and also a long overdue update to my blog header tutorial.

Happy March First!

Maybe Boring is the Wrong Word

2011-02-25T10:10:00.000-08:00

Maybe we've just hit a wall, and that wall is February. Another blogger (sorry, I can't remember who) described it as the longest little month of the year. Ain't it the truth. Like Reno, the biggest little city in the world.

Basketball camp has ended for Aidan. Avery's homeschool nature classes are over. Knitting in front of the fireplace no longer holds my attention. I couldn't even finish a row yesterday. We're all in between rows right now.

Avery texted me in the middle of the night, "I'm bored and tired." I think she was just stuck in between days. I know the feeling. I'm tempted to crawl back into bed and wait until Spring. I'm stuck between seasons.

We just need something new. Maybe I'll rearrange the furniture.

* * * * * * * *

Inspired by The Diary of Deliverance Trembley, Avery and I made our own ink out of walnut shells. We crushed the shells with a small mallet, put them in a saucepan with just enough water to cover them, simmered the solution for about half an hour, then strained the ink into a bowl. We made a quill using one of Smally's recently shed feathers. I love Social Studies, homeschool style.

* * * * * * * *

Have you heard about Camp Shutter Sisters? Asilomar, Pacific Grove, October 16-19. I think I know what to do with my Etsy money now. Any of my California girls want to carpool?

* * * * * * * *

Speaking of my California Girls, Patricia of Wonderfarm has some thought-provoking posts about learning and gaming. Join the conversation on her blog.

* * * * * * * *

I'm making breakfast pizza for dinner tonight. I made Chipotle Beans - 101 Cookbooks style last night. The chipotle tomato sauce was so good, I think I'll make another batch to go on the pizza. Mmmmm. My mouth is watering just thinking about it. See? I told you I'd spice things up a little for your next visit. Nothing says spicy like chipotle peppers in adobo sauce.

Wishing you all a spicy, non-boring weekend! I'll be celebrating the end of February. Come on March, I'm ready for you.

What Can I Say?

2011-02-23T17:02:00.000-08:00

If I was into blog awards, I'd create a new one today and award it to myself: The Most Boring Blog of the Week.

I'm feeling a little dry in the blogging idea department, but feeling the need to visit this space. So here I go with the random boring stuff:

(Yarn Along for Ginny)

I'm reading Are You There God? It's Me, Margaret, for the first time. After pulling it off the bookshelf and recommending it to Avery, I figured I should probably read it myself. Something sticks out in my mind about it being a little controversial. A little over half way through, I'd say it's pretty tame. It reminds me a little of the Anastasia Krupnik books. I think I like Lois Lowry's preteen heroine more than Judy Blume's. So far.

I really love my preteen heroine, Avery, best of all. She went shopping online this morning and found a few shirts she needed. I told her I'd buy them, but when she saw the shipping price, she offered to pay the shipping. ($10 is a bit steep for shipping, but much cheaper than a trip to the mall.) I told her she could work it off. She folded the five loads of laundry I'd been avoiding the past few days. Win-win. Also, last night, she made the yummiest rosemary crackers to go with our minestrone.

My little hero, Aidan, has been pretty lovable this week too. Walking along the tracks the other day, he shouted out, "Come see this Mom! A dead worm in the shape of a heart!" That boy knows what I like.

They both chipped in and helped me make limoncello the other day. Don't they look happy? Poor kids - all that work, and they won't even be able to drink the fruit of their labor. Despite the looks on their faces, I think they enjoyed the work. They just look serious when they're concentrating.

I mopped our floor today. Something I've been meaning to do for, well, months. Maybe since Thanksgiving. Gross, huh? The thing is, I don't actually have a mop, so I "mop" our floors Cinderella style. Down on my hands and knees. We have wood floors throughout the house. It's a big job. I rewarded myself with a homebrew and an episode of The Daily Show when I finished.

Now I've got to put away all that laundry Avery folded and make some tortillas. We're having enchiladas for dinner. Aidan just started a fire - in the fireplace. It's good to have kids with skills.

Did you hear it's supposed to snow in San Francisco? The first time since the year I was born. That was a long time ago. If it snows there, we'll have plenty of snow here. Maybe even enough for sledding.

And just because there can never be enough birds in blogland:

Put a bird on it.

What did I tell you? Booooooooring. I'll try to spice it up a bit for your next visit.

DIY Mini Crocheted Bunting

2011-02-18T11:29:00.000-08:00

Can a person ever have too many garlands? Not if they make you happy! And this little spring garland has me smiling (Lord knows I could use some smiles this week).

Here's the pattern so you can crochet some smiles too.

Materials: Fine crochet thread (size 20 or 30) in a variety of colors, and a size 10 crochet hook

Step 1: Crochet 12 mini pennants.

Chain 2.
2 single crochet (sc) in first chain. Chain 1, turn.
2 sc in first stitch, 1 sc in next stitch. Chain 1, turn.
2 sc in first stitch, 1 sc in next two stitches. Chain 1, turn.
2 sc in first stitch, 1 sc in next three stitches. Chain 1, turn.
2 sc in first stitch, 1 sc in next four stitches. Chain 1, turn.
1 sc in each stitch. Chain 1, turn.
2 sc in first stitch, 1 sc in next five stitches. Chain 1, turn.
1 sc in each stitch. Chain 1, turn.
2 sc in first stitch, 1 sc in next six stitches. Chain 1, turn.
1 sc in each stitch. Chain 1 and fasten off.
Finish pennant by weaving in the tail at the top of the pennant, and cutting the tail at the bottom close to the point. Dab a little clear nail polish on the tip to prevent unravelling.

Step 2: Chain the pennants together to form garland.

Using the thread you've selected for the chain, chain 40.
Slip stitch the chain to the top right corner of the first pennant. Chain 7. Slip stitch the chain to the top left corner of the pennant.
Chain 40. Repeat Step 2 for each pennant until all pennants are attached to garland. Chain 40. Fasten off.

Hang your garland and be happy!

Some color ideas: Primary colors for a babies room. Team or school colors. Alternating colors on a neutral chain.

Can't you just imagine bunting crocheted from jute? Ooh, I might have to break out a larger crochet hook and get hooking. Maybe after I knit a few rows on my sweater. My neighbor (not the screamer) is taking my kids to a movie this afternoon, and I have a date with my needles, the couch, and Netflix. I'll be starting my weekend early. Enjoy yours!

Yarn Along

2011-02-16T15:56:00.000-08:00

Aidan has been wanting to learn Greek, and I've been wanting to knit a sweater. Today we both got our wish!

I'm going to come right out and say it. I'm too cheap to be a real knitter. I'd like to say I'm too poor to buy yarn, because it sounds more pitiful, but the truth is I'm just too cheap. And indecisive, and unsure, and overwhelmed by all the possibilities of patterns, colors and textures. Every once in a while I get up the nerve to jump into a knitting project, and I check our budget and convince myself it's OK to splurge on yarn. Then I get to the yarn shop, get all sweaty and nervous, and leave empty handed. What if I don't like the color of the yarn once it's knitted up? What if the pattern doesn't fit right or doesn't look good on me? Why am I knitting a sweater anyways? My sweater drawer is full to bulging. Do I really want the responsibility of a hundred plus dollar, handmade sweater? Most of my favorite sweaters are two dollar thrift store finds.

So today when I found a bag of wool yarn at the thrift store for five bucks, I decided it was fate. It is very rare to find wool yarn at a thrift store, let alone a bag of it. Plus it's vintage and a color I can imagine wearing. As soon as I got it home, I scrolled through pages of patterns on Ravelry looking for a match to the weight and amount of yarn I had, found a free pattern on Knitty (the Tappan Zee Cardigan), and cast on to check gauge using the only pair of size 6 needles I had. Since it's impossible to knit a sweater on sock needles, I rode my bike down to the yarn store, splurged on some Addis, came home, built a fire, and cast on - just before the thunder began rumbling and the hail started pounding.

And that is how thrifty knitters yarn along.

P.S. Shannon reached her Kickstarter goal! Thanks to all of those who helped! Now I have yet another reason to visit Vermont (not that Diane and Tara aren't reason enough!) - I'd love to spend some time in Shannon's yarn lounge. Especially if I saved my pennies and could splurge on her handspun farm wool. Congratulations Shannon!

Free at Last

2011-02-14T19:06:00.000-08:00

My husband has always amazed me with his ability to not give a damn what other people think. With such conviction and ease he says, "It's none of my business what other people think."

I've been praying for years to be more like him (while keeping my girlish figure and lack of prominent facial hair, of course). Finally my prayer was answered - in the most unexpected way.

Yesterday afternoon, standing on my neighbor's porch, a mom from our neighborhood raged in my face, with eyes bulging and finger wagging, accusing my husband and me of all sorts of bad parenting, calling my son mean and hurtful names, and peppering her tirade with all sorts of choice expletives. I stood there silently, my head tilted to one side, as I was verbally assaulted. When she finally stormed off, banging the screen behind her, I turned around and walked home. And then I smiled. I couldn't stop smiling.

For you see, while she flung all sorts of poisonous venom my way, I found within myself the antidote: I didn't care what she thought. Her stinging words missed their target for I knew with certainty that her words were false, based on misinformation, and that what she thought about me and my family was absolutely none of my business. Not my issues, not my baggage. She owned everything that came out of her mouth.

Her accusations should have traveled down the well worn path to my inner self doubt, fueling my feelings of uncertainty and fear of inadequacy. I should have started crying and grasping for insults to hurl back at her. But instead I found a new path, straight to self confidence and assuredness. I was finally FREE! I've never felt so liberated!

Ahhhhhhhhhhhh.

It's not the first time I've been insulted as a parent, and it probably won't be the last. Such insults are expected when you choose to parent differently from your neighbors. It's challenging to parent in the midst of other parents. But I can finally say, with conviction, that what other people think about my parenting is none of my business, and furthermore, how I parent is none of their business.

I will admit, being yelled at with so much vehemence shook me up a bit. No one has ever raged at me like that before; I don't know that I've ever evoked that much emotion in anyone. I woke up today with a feeling that something is not quite right. It's as though there has been a toxic spill in my neighborhood and we're experiencing environmental fall out. But as my dad said last night via Skype, "This too shall pass."

A few more words of wisdom guiding me today are:

"Opinions are like feet: everybody has them and some of them stink." ~ My grandma

"No one can make you feel inferior without your consent." ~ Eleanor Roosevelt (one of my mom's favorite quotes)

"There is so much good in the worst of us, and so much bad in the best of us, that it hardly becomes any of us to talk about the rest of us." ~ G. W. Cooke

"Share your strengths, not your weaknesses." ~ My Yogi tea bag this morning

My neighbor has given me a gift she didn't mean to give me. Perhaps I should send her a thank you card (yes, I'm being sarcastic; my husband jokingly suggested a restraining order) , but instead, I'll just smile and wave the next time our paths cross. I like this new unflappable me. Thanks for letting me get it off my chest (not that you had a choice, but all the same, thanks for reading).

Heart Shaped Bokeh

2011-02-14T09:14:00.000-08:00

My friend Maya and I were talking about bokeh a few weeks ago, and I mentioned how much I loved the heart shaped bokeh I'd seen in a few flickr pictures. I wondered aloud "how do they do that?" Bless Maya's heart, she looked it up and sent me a link. Why didn't I think to Google "heart shaped bokeh" before?

So here's the skinny, since the tutorial was kind of vague. Using black construction paper, I cut a three inch circle to fit the diameter of my 50mm lens. In the middle of the circle, I cut out a 1 3/8" heart. The heart in the tutorial appears much smaller, but I think the heart has to be big enough not to crop your view through the viewfinder. I cut a 10"x 1" strip for the cuff, then wrapped it snugly around my lens and taped the strip to form a circle. I taped the cuff to the circle, slid the contraption over my lens, and got to snapping.

A few details:

Aperature 1.4.

Shutter speed variable depending on light meter.

Focus blurred to various degrees to adjust size of bokeh.

I'm having too much fun with heart shaped bokeh, and I'm dreaming up all the different shaped bokeh I can make with this simple technique. Thank you Maya for the inspiration! And happy heart day to everyone!

Random

2011-02-11T10:36:00.000-08:00

Do you want to know the best way to start your day?

Step 1: Pour yourself a cup of coffee. It tastes even better when your husband makes it.

Step 2: Look at your friend's uploads on flickr. Nothing like seeing beautiful images first thing in the morning.

Step 3: Read all the warm and encouraging comments your friends have left on your blog about your new dog.

Step 4: Take your dog for a walk. Enjoy the cold and quiet.

Thank you friends for making my days even better.

Do you ever wish you lived in a model home? A magazine spread? A designer showcase?

I do. Especially when I'm looking around my house through my camera lens. Perfection and real living do not go hand in hand. But really, I'd rather live in a real house than a fake one. At least that's what I tell myself.

It's been a while since I shared a slice of real life here:

Aidan took apart our broken globe and turned it into a fruit bowl. Bet you haven't seen that design idea in a magazine.

Avery and her friends have rediscovered their dolls. It reminds me of when I was in sixth grade and my neighbor and I would play with Barbies after school.

There are far too many projects on our table. The temporary table we put up for Thanksgiving. I wonder if it will stay up until next Thanksgiving. I cleared it off after I took this picture, but it's filling up again.

Sweet Ellen of Growing Gills sent me a few patterns from an old magazine for crocheted jute rugs. George likes them a lot, and he asked me to show him how to crochet when we have some down time. He probably doesn't want me to tell you that, but I'm just way too excited about the prospect of hooking with my husband.

My mom, brother and I have a new photography project this year. Each month, one of us selects a word, and we take pictures prompted by that word. At the end of the month, I put the pictures together in a triptych.

January's word was "weather":

His, hers and mine.

This month's word is "triangle". I've been looking everywhere for triangles. Mostly seeing them in roof lines. Then yesterday I realized my newest project is very triangular:

Oops. I did it again. I just can't seem to get away from crocheted garlands. There are so many possibilities.

I'll post the pattern for the mini pennants next week. A big thanks to Whip Up for sharing my crochet star pattern the other day. I'm always so excited by the surge of traffic to this site when my projects are linked. Then I get nervous and wonder if I can keep the interest of new readers. Yet another dilemma of blogging. I'm lucky to have such simple problems.

Wishing you all a lovely weekend, whether or not you come back!

The Newness of it All

2011-02-09T13:45:00.001-08:00

Our foothill home has a new companion . . . of the canine variety.

Riley - a five year old Golden Retriever (plus some other indeterminate genetic influences). Once a lost dog, then a rescued dog, now our dog. Aidan has been asking for months and months for a dog, and finally George and I decided it was time. Our family has never had a dog. I haven't had a dog since I was a child. I'm a little overwhelmed by the newness of it all.

Is it wrong that I like him best when he's asleep? If he'd only stay asleep during his naps and not jump up and follow me when I leave the room. I now have constant company, even when I'm just putting away laundry. Having Riley is definitely like having another child; but not at all like a child, because he is a dog, and I need to learn how to treat him as such. I've got a lot to learn.

Fortunately, Riley is the right dog to break me in. He's calm, potty trained, mostly obedient, and good on a leash. Sometimes aloof and not too excitable, he fits right in with our family. Plus, he gets along with neighboring dogs.

Still, I find myself waiting for the rest of the story. I'm anticipating the possession to commence and Cujo to appear. Or perhaps the next thunderstorm will bring out his inner Marley. Then again, he might be our Hachiko or Winn Dixie. Probably, though, he's just Riley, not a book turned into a movie dog. His story will unfold without an adapted screenplay, one scene at a time. Sure, there may be twists and unexpected events, but that's what makes the story interesting.

I want Riley to be a good fit for our family, and I want to do right by him, and I feel a tremendous pressure to succeed. I've got to accept that we will make mistakes and that we will encounter issues. I just can't wait until the newness of it all wears off, when Riley feels safe and secure, and we feel completely comfortable in his presence. In time he will blend seamlessly into our lives, like our chickens, our garden, even homeschooling. All these things felt overwhelming in the beginning too, but now they're second nature.

Right now, I'm so exhausted I could curl up next to Riley and take a nap. After that, we'll go on a walk, put away the laundry, eat, pee, poop, do a few tricks, and start the cycle all over again. Yes, it's rather a boring story, but it's Riley's story . . . so far.

Crochet Star Pattern

2011-02-04T09:32:00.001-08:00

"Did you find everything you need?", asked the cashier at Trader Joe's.

"Everything but the sugar," I replied. The cashier called over to the manager to ask about the sugar, and the manager said it had been discontinued. Something about rising prices and not being able to secure a good deal. No more granulated sugar in a pretty pink package at Trader Joe's.

"It's a food crisis," joked the cashier. Now a joke like that should send a girl like me over the edge. After all, I'm all too familiar with food crises, being an avid reader of post apocalyptic literature. Just the mention of rising prices and diminishing supplies should have sent me to every store in town to stock up on sugar. But instead, I stocked up on something else while out shopping:

We might be out of sugar, but there will be no shortage of crochet thread in my house. I'm too busy crocheting to bake anyways.

As promised, here's the crochet star pattern.

Materials: Crochet thread, size 30. Crochet hook, size 10.

Step 1: Chain 5, join with slip stitch to form ring.

Step 2. Chain 3. 14 double crochet in ring. Slip stitch to 3rd chain of chain 3 to form circle.

Step 3: * Chain 5. 1 single crochet in 2nd chain, 1 half double crochet in next chain, 1 double crochet in next chain, 1 triple crochet in next chain. Skip 2 double crochet, slip stitch in next double crochet. * Repeat from * to * four more times to create five points, ending with slip stitch at base of first point. Fasten off and weave in ends.

Make lots and lots. Let me know if you think of something clever to do with them.

Now for my next project: researching how to grow sugar beets and extract sugar from them. Just in case.

Yarn Along

2011-02-02T14:56:00.000-08:00

I'm joining Ginny's Yarn Along today, though really for me it's more of a Thread Along. I made the mistake of saying yarn instead of thread when I hit the jackpot in the craft section of the thrift store recently.

A veteran crafter/thrifter called me on it - I won't make that mistake again! No, I probably will. I scored all this vintage thread for a quarter a piece. I'm in crochet heaven.

I've got a nice little cottage industry going on right now. My little crochet heart garlands are keeping me in business! To think all I needed to turn a little profit was 75 cents in thread, an old crochet hook, and a well timed email to the staff of Design*Sponge. A good small business investment indeed!

My friend Shannon of The Spun Monkey is also looking to grow her small business - a fiber studio in rural Vermont! - with a little help from Kickstarter. What is Kickstarter? To borrow their words:

Kickstarter is a new way to fund creative ideas and ambitious endeavors.

We believe that:

• A good idea, communicated well, can spread fast and wide.
• A large group of people can be a tremendous source of money and encouragement.

Kickstarter is powered by a unique all-or-nothing funding method where projects must be fully-funded or no money changes hands.

Anyone can make a pledge to help Shannon grow her business. Any amount helps. And just like pledge drives on PBS and NPR, pledgers receive perks (as in free yarn!). Help Shannon, help yourself.

I really want to see Shannon reach her pledge goal, so I'm going to offer a little perk of my own. Pledge any amount towards Shannon's Kickstarter project, email me (mollydunham@sbcglobal.net), and I will enter your name in a drawing to receive a Mini Hearts Crochet Garland.

Here's the link (again):

The Spun Monkey Dyeworks and Lounge on Kickstarter

In other small business news, I've added a few new things to my Etsy store:

Mini Heart Hair Clips, in pink or red.

And,

I'm working on a new pattern which I should be ready to share by Friday. Shannon asked me if I had a crochet pattern for stars. I didn't, so I made one up. Ask and you shall receive!

It's About Time

2011-01-27T16:55:00.000-08:00

Did you catch Monday's Fresh Air? Terry Gross interviewed Professor Brian Greene. He's the leading expert in string theory and recently published a book on parallel universes. She asked him what he hoped to learn in his lifetime. His answer:

"What really is time? What is the nature of time? I mean, we all think about time. We all live within time, but we are still struggling to figure out what time actually is."

Professor Greene, I certainly hope you find the time to answer that question. I'd love to know what time really is. Although I don't wear a watch, I don't have an alarm clock, and I generally avoid looking at the clock throughout the day, my life revolves around time.

Is it time to wake up? Has it been four minutes since I heard George pour boiling water into the French press?

Avery! It's time to let the chickens out.

Isn't it about time Aidan woke up?

What time does the library open?

Is it time for lunch?

Mom, can I use my computer time?

How much time will it take me to make dinner and when should I start?

What time will George get home from work?

Kids! Go brush your teeth - it's time for bed!

Time. Time. Time. Time. I even sing about it. When going out to get thyme from the garden, I can't help but sing, "Time won't give me time....". Every time I open the refrigerator and see bottles of condiments, I sing, "If I could save time in a bottle. . .", which of course leads to the next line, "But there never seems to be enough time to do the things you want to do once you find them".

Time is on my side, though. I seem to have plenty of time to do the things I want to do, (though not always enough time to do the things I'm supposed to do). I don't have to punch a time card, and, with the exception of my children, nobody really keeps track of how I spend my time. I'm fortunate to be married to someone who, like me, values time over money. When I talked to George last night about whether or not I should make more heart garlands for my Etsy store, he asked, "Is it worth your time?" I'm still thinking about my answer.

I'm uncomfortable with the speed at which time travels online. Information is instant, and when making inquiries or conducting transactions online, we all seem to expect immediate replies. The scene at the end of Social Network when Jesse Eisenberg repeatedly refreshes his Facebook page, waiting for his friend request to be reciprocated, loops in my mind. (For a funny technology loop scenario, check out this video.) How many times have I clicked the refresh button . . . just today? Isn't doing the same thing repeatedly and expecting different results the very definition of insanity?

I much prefer the pace of snail mail. I can wait days and days for replies. I only need to check the mailbox one time a day. That is my speed. I'm a slow record, belting out the same old songs over and over again, time after time.

Thanks for your time. Peace out.

P.S. Intense Debate didn't work out so well after all. After all but two of your comments got lost in cyberspace (or maybe in one of Prof. Greene's parallel universes), I uninstalled it. So we're back to Blogger comments, old school style.

DIY Burlap Valentine Postcards

2011-01-25T16:03:00.000-08:00

Love can be rough, especially when you embroider it on burlap.

Got some burlap scraps hanging around? Whip up some love with a few stitches.

Cut your burlap into postcard size rectangles (approximately 4"x6") . Stiffen up the burlap with a little spray starch and a hot iron. Repeat a few times on each side.

(The "Bee Mine" Valentine was inspired by my bee-keeping friend, Patricia.)

(This one makes me think of the Fed Ex package Tom Hanks delivered at the end of Cast Away.)

Embroider a design on the postcard. All of my designs were free-hand, though I did trace the hearts with a light pencil to achieve symmetry. Maya*Made has a great post about embroidering on burlap. The woven grid of burlap is a perfect surface for embroidery. I used fine cotton crochet thread, but embroidery floss would work just as well. Use what you have on hand.

Cut a piece of paper the same size as the burlap. Stitch the paper onto the back of your burlap postcard. I simply zig-zagged around the postcard with ecru thread. The paper backing will cover the backside of your embroidery and give you a place to write a sonnet to your beloved.

Voila! You're ready to send some love to someone you love. Or if you're like me, you can stuff them into a ziploc bag and put them away for a year until you remember to do something with them. I have to admit, I'm a tad bit embarassed by how sappy some of these Valentines are, but what can I say? It's the season for sap.

The Unintended Consequences of Colour Week

2011-01-21T17:04:00.000-08:00

Imagine my joy this morning when I saw my gold on Poppytalk. Aidan took the picture, he gets the credit. Thank you Aidan for getting me on Poppytalk! I should probably thank my hairdresser too. She added the gold to my locks.

It's Friday. Do you know why the blonde wrote TGIF on her shoes? "Toes go in first". Avery downloaded an app full of blond jokes. So now I'm full of them too. And I thought I'd heard them all in my youth, when I was a "real" blonde.

We've been equal parts productive and lazy this week, but I'll just share the productive part. Aidan sorted all of his Legos by color. I've been wanting to see this happen for a while, but I think it was Colour Week that motivated me to buy the containers.

While he sorted, I spent a little bit of time looking through Poppytalk DIY archives and stumbled on a cute project. Miniature handmade books. Avery and I had fun making some this afternoon.

I've got a new favorite word.

As a family, I think we've arrived at a new level of it. I feel that it might be fleeting. I want to capture as much of it as I can and hold it close. Only an intimate relationship with one's daughter allows for such comments as, "But mom, you can see your veiny hands in that picture!"

Maybe it's the upcoming holiday making me so sentimental. I'm not a big fan of holidays, but for some reason, I feel compelled to fill my house with symbols of love.

I call this one "Gaga for George".

Maybe it's not Valentine's Day making me all lovey-dovey. It could be a side effect from watching Pretty in Pink a few times this week.

It's Friday. TGIF. I should go start dinner. How does quiche and salad sound? Don't forget, toes go in first. Enjoy your weekend, my friends.

P.S. I installed Intense Debate on my blog. We'll see how it works.

DIY Coffee Sack Firewood Carrier

2011-01-19T16:13:00.000-08:00

Twelve years ago, house hunting for the first and last time, I had two requirements: wood floors and a fireplace. If only I had dreamed bigger: property and privacy. Those two things were far from my 22 year old mind. If I ever get the chance to house hunt again, I'll be a wiser hunter.

Back to the wood floors and fireplace. I had no idea how messy a fireplace would be, and how much time I'd spend sweeping the wood floor around the fireplace, and from the path between the wood pile and the fireplace. So out of necessity and materials on hand, a design was born.

A firewood carrier made from a burlap coffee sack. I've used mine for the past two winters, so I can vouch for it's function and durability. I use it every day during the cold months. Got a fireplace? Make one of these. Here's how:

1. Cut two large rectangular panels from burlap, 19 inches wide by 33 inches long. Cut two long rectangles for the handles, 5 inches wide by 20 to 22 inches long. You can also use heavy twill, denim, or decorator fabric for the carrier.

* Save your burlap scraps. I have a valentine project coming up soon!

2. Make two handles. Fold and press the long sides of the handles over 1/2 inch. Fold handles in half and sew about 1/8 inch from edge.

3. Place and pin the handles on carrier, one handle on each short side, sandwiched between the two rectangular panels (right sides of panels facing each other). Extend the handles beyond the edge of panels by one inch (for reinforcement in step 5).

4. Using a 1/2 inch seam allowance, sew all the way around the carrier, leaving a 10 inch opening along one of the long sides. Reinforce the stitching on handles by reverse stitching. Make sure to lock seams at beginning and end of stitching. Snip all four corners at a 45 degree angle, close to the seam.

5. Turn carrier right side out. Push corners out to a point with a turning tool (I use the bigger end of a chopstick). Press all seams flat, pressing the unstitched opening under 1/2 inch. Topstitch 1/8 inch from the edge all the way around the carrier, thereby stitching the opening closed. Reinforce the handles by sewing a small rectangle on the panel at the base of each handle.

You're now ready to fill your carrier with firewood and make a relatively clean trip from the wood pile to the fireplace! The carrier can be folded up and stored flat when not in use. Enjoy!

P.S. Time for a little shameless commerce. I have two extra carriers for sale. Email me if you're interested. Each carrier is $35.00, including shipping. Thanks!

Join

2011-01-17T06:59:00.000-08:00

I'm not typically one to join. At a party, I prefer to hang out in the kitchen. If there's a game going on, I sit on the sidelines. But lately I've been thinking, if I don't join, won't I miss out?

So I'm making an effort to join. Join is my word for the month of January. This week I'm joining Poppytalk's Colour Week. I love it when people spell color with a "u". Gotta love Canada.

Today's color is red. In a season without a lot of green, red really stands out on it's own.

Yesterday, keeping my word in mind, I joined the boys at the basketball court and shot some hoops. With the basketball and with my camera.

Join Colour Week over on Flickr. See you there!

P.S. Crocheted heart garlands are in the shop!

Walk With Me

2011-01-15T14:40:00.000-08:00

I've always considered myself an October girl, but I'm fast becoming smitten with January.

Here in California, we have no right to call this season winter.

The last two days have been a sneak preview of spring.

Yesterday, my children kicked off their shoes, rolled up their pants, and frolicked in a public fountain.

Today, I walked down the tracks to the frog pond. Well, pond is an exaggeration. It's actually deep, permanent ruts in the mud which have created a breeding ground for frogs, mosquitoes, and all things beautiful.

Winter, I love your texture, your light, your simplicity, your promise, your presence. Feel free to stay awhile.

What I Did Last Weekend

2011-01-11T09:35:00.000-08:00

Last year I saw a pattern for a knitted jute washcloth floating around the blogosphere. The idea of working with jute has been in the back of my mind ever since. Over the weekend, I sat down with a spool of jute from the hardware store, an old crochet pattern book, and a large crochet hook. Several hours - and bandaids - later, I had a small stack of crocheted jute motifs that I adore.

My first thought was using them for dish scrubbies - eco-tawashi style. I scrubbed the sink with the granny square last night, and although it worked well, it's still wet. Crochet is so dense. A knitted jute scrubby would dry out much faster.

Second thought - potholders! You can never have enough.

Third thought - Leave them hanging on the wall. The color and texture is so simple and wintry.

I bought two new spools of jute from the hardware store and I have my eye on a few more crochet motif patterns.

Aruba Star

Golden Seasons Medallion

Vintage Circle Motif

I'm also having fun working with two textures - jute and cotton twine (from Whole Foods - who says you need to go to the craft store for crafting supplies?).

They belong together.

gray area

2011-01-07T08:02:00.000-08:00

While my body was busy folding clothes the other day and not letting my brain think about it, for fear my brain would direct my body to more cerebrally pleasing tasks, my brain wandered to thoughts of the internet. The topic kept my brain busy enough to fold and put away several loads of clothes. An interesting thought occurred to me as I crossed the floor to my dresser: while I was away from the internet, the internet was still there. Well, duh, rather obvious; but the thought gave me pause.

You see, I'm back on the internet. I held out for four months, and it was a wonderful four months, but I felt a strong urge to come back to my beloved community, and to this space that's all my own. I began to feel like a knitter without yarn, a painter without a brush, a photographer without - you get the picture. Font, pixel, html, http - this is my medium. The internet is a tool in my workshop, but a tool that can both help and hinder my work.

I wonder what other people are working on, and the tool in my studio allows me to see. Oh you magical and devious internet. You promise inspiration and encouragement, but you have a dark side - distraction and envy. Yes, envy. I hate to admit it, but the more time I spend online, the less content I become with my own work and accomplishments.

Ooh, look at that picture she took. Maybe I need a better camera.

A book deal? I want one of those too.

She knit how many sweaters? Let me stop what I'm doing and cast on.

52 books in 52 weeks sounds like a fun project. Kids, let's go to the library.

I wonder why she didn't mark me as a contact too. Are my pictures not good enough?

There's a fine line between feeling inspired and motivated by creative people and losing my own creative vision in their shadow.

The speed at which things happen on the internet is another distraction to my work. Flickr is aptly named: a brief movement, a tremor, a slight sensation. Everything is instant, what is new becomes old a second after it's uploaded. There's no time to savor, to digest - there's only consumption. During my break, I realized I'd rather be consumed by another instant event: life. It's filling, inspiring, distracting, immediate, hard, enough.

Aidan dished up his own bowl of soup last night and proceeded to scoop the veggies back into the pot. "I only want the breath," he said.

As my children get older, I appreciate their mispronunciations even more. I knew exactly what he meant. I just want the breath too. My challenge is skirting around the contents of the pot to get what I want. Veggies are good for you and tasty too, but sometimes you just want the nourishment of the medium in which they float.

Just the breath.

one sunset, three ways

2011-01-05T08:17:00.000-08:00

there are things i'm not telling myself.

it's not denial; it's a shift
from thinking to doing,
from planning to being,
from should do to done.

there are no lists, no schedules, no agenda. just action. i am the rolling ball.

i'm immersed in motion, pushing any thought of it to the back of my mind. if i tell myself what i'm up to, i might talk myself out of it. whatever it is. my body seems to know, and my brain can discover it as it occurs.

amazingly, but not surprisingly, i'm accomplishing much more by doing than thinking.

and the ball rolls on.

hello new year

2011-01-03T14:35:00.000-08:00

the long weekend is over.
the dishes are done.
the sun is out.
i'm ready for you, new year.
i have no idea what we have in store for one another,
but i'm ready to keep track of you.

i've been drooling over calendars i've spied all over blogland, but decided to go handmade this year.

handmade and low tech. very me.

there are easy to use, online templates for making your own calendar, but if you're low tech like me, you could spend a rainy afternoon and make your own template out of recycled materials. i knew there was a good reason i saved all those plastic spinach containers from costco.

i laid out a calendar template on graph paper, placed the clear plastic lid over the graph paper calendar, and cut out all those tiny squares with an exacto knife.

i cut a short stack of card stock in half and got busy sketching. my theme for this year's calendar: low-tech items which make my life better. so far i've got a canning jar, an iron, and a bottle cap. where would i be without the bottle cap? my sketchpad is filling up with ideas for the other nine months. but really, i'm in no rush. i've got all year.

new year's note to self

2011-01-01T17:42:00.000-08:00

make plans.
set goals.
develop projects.
list resolutions.
dream big.
expect more.

but remember: the only thing you have to change this year is the calendar.

2010-12-29T20:33:00.001-08:00

Wednesday.

Normal.

Uneventful.

Spectacular.

Unforgettable.

It rained and hailed while the sun shined.

A rainbow appeared in the water splatter of a speeding truck.

I worked on a few new ideas and delighted myself with my creations.

A magazine in Seattle featured my chocolate play dough recipe.

We ate chicken noodle soup for dinner.

Wednesday.

The last in December.

The last in 2011.

A regular day.

A day like no other.

More or Less

2010-12-27T21:08:00.000-08:00

Sitting in front of the fire late one evening with my husband, I confessed to him my struggle with a desire for more. Not more stuff, but maybe more . . . magic? spirit? joy? cheer? All those words emblazoned on store fronts and shopping bags?

The holiday season is brimming with excess. Excessive shopping, excessive advertising, excessive seasonal decorating, excessive calendar engagements, excessive eating and drinking, and for my husband, excessive overtime. I should have been full, but instead I felt like I had opened a big, fancily wrapped box to find nothing inside. Just a department store prop. A hollow facade. A nasty trick.

Then my husband gave me a few unwrapped ideas and changed my perspective. “It’s actually the season of less,” he said. “It’s winter. The earth is fallow.”

He’s right. There is less daylight, less heat from the sun, less fruits and vegetables in the garden and at the market, less leaves on the trees. Nature is taking a break; maybe I should follow her cue.

So I started appreciating less more. The silhouette of bare branches against a gray sky. The glitter of dew drops on blades of yellowing grass. The pink and orange sunsets sandwiched between shadowy hills and threatening clouds. The lyrical rattle of dried seed pods clinging to a tree. How in this world could I feel empty? Why did I forget to notice the magic all around me?

I don’t think I’ve ever been so relieved to put the Christmas season behind me. With all the gifts wrapped, unwrapped and put away, with the (slight) slowing down of my husband’s work schedule, with important dates checked off the calendar, we can finally put up our stockinged feet, sit in front of the roaring fire, and truly appreciate the season. Winter, nature in her simplest garb, less in the best sense of the word. May you too enjoy less more. 'Tis the season.

Craft Hope

2010-12-12T18:52:00.000-08:00

It seems like ages ago that my neighbor, Marjorie, called with the exciting news that our friend Jade, founder of Craft Hope, had signed a book deal. Jade was looking for projects for the book; was I interested in contributing? Of course!

Within weeks, I had a project written up, completed, photographed, and shipped. I had almost forgotten about the whole thing when the book finally came out. I have to admit, it was a thrill to see my name in print. But even more thrilling was the entirety of the book, all the projects it contained, and the whole miracle that is Craft Hope.

The book came out at the same time I decided, for family reasons, to take a break from the internet. I missed the hype of the release, and I tucked away my extra copy to give away at a later date. Well, now is the later date. I have an extra copy of Craft Hope for one reader. And just in time for Craft Hope's Project 10 - Pick a Project. Pick any project from the book - or from your own crafty repertoire - and send it to the charity of your choice.

Leave a comment for a chance to win your own copy of Craft Hope, and I will announce a winner on Friday, December 17. 'Til then, I'll be busy crafting a little hope, a little magic, a lot of love, and, of course, a huge mess.

******************************

And the winner is Dianne At the Riverbend! Thank you all for participating in the Craft Hope giveaway!

2010-12-10T20:11:00.000-08:00

This is Avery's youngest friend. Although only two, she's taught us a few things: how to dress for walks in the rain, and also a few words in Finnish. Her mom is from Finland, and while she speaks English, she communicates with her children primarily in Finnish. To hear her read out loud from a children's book is an extraordinary lyrical treat. There's a very good reason for the phrase "mother tongue". The poor dad doesn't understand a word his daughter says!

Rain boots and slickers have been one of our best investments yet. Getting wet is no longer an excuse to stay indoors. The craft table and fireplace, on the other hand, are good excuses to stay inside. My circle cutting skills are improving and I now have more ruffled scarves than I can wear. Good thing two of you are taking scarves off my hands, or rather from around my neck!

Without easy access to the online random number generator, I found a new source of random numbers: Avery and Aidan. They each picked a number between 1 and 21, and the winners are commenters 10 and 16 -

Patricia and Kirstie!

Congratulations ladies! How convenient that I know where both of you live and what colors you like.

'Tis the season to give, so come back Monday for another giveaway. I'm seeing a pattern here...

One more thing - in case you don't already know, I'm over at Habit this month. Being there again is like an early Christmas present. Happy weekending!

Avery's Ruffle Scarf

2010-12-03T13:21:00.000-08:00

We ran into Target the other day for Band-aids and Tylenol, and came home filled with inspiration.

The Artist Ruffle T-shirt. I wasn't in the least bit tempted to buy it as I couldn't really see myself wearing it. But I love how they created the ruffles. I pointed it out to Avery and the idea got her creative juices flowing. We went to the thrift store, bought a few 99 cent t-shirts, and she got to work.

Fast, easy, inexpensive. Just the kind of project I love!

To make your own Avery Ruffle Scarf, you'll need an extra large (or larger) t-shirt, scissors, circle template (we used a Mason jar lid), chalk, needle and thread. The scarf takes 30 to 60 minutes to make.

Cut a five inch wide band from the body of the t-shirt. You'll now have a very large loop. Cut the loop in half at one of the side seams to create the scarf.

Cut out 12 to 24 circles from the shirt. We used the sleeves to make the circles, which allowed us to cut two circles at a time. Fold the circles in half, then half again to create quarter circles with a rounded, ruffled edge.

Beginning at the bottom of the scarf, attach the circles, in rows of three, with a few stitches. Avery prefers less ruffle, so she only attached two rows. I prefer a little extra, so I did four rows of ruffle.

I got a little carried away with her idea. She finished her scarf and moved on to other projects, but I just can't stop making Avery Ruffle Scarves! I've got two on the cutting table ready to sew, and two more t-shirts waiting to be cut.

Game for a giveaway? It has been a while, hasn't it? Ok. Leave a comment and I'll select two random winners to receive scarves. Leave some ideas for colors you'd like, and I'll try to round up some more 99 cent t-shirts.

Drop us a line if you make a scarf of your own - I know Avery would love to see how her idea travels!